


The Kindest Curse

by pinchthatcurestheitch



Series: The Fall of the Fourth God [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Humor, Plot, Rough Sex, Sequel, Sexual Content, Smut, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-08
Updated: 2015-10-04
Packaged: 2018-01-04 00:37:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 63,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1074976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinchthatcurestheitch/pseuds/pinchthatcurestheitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Loki, no.” she stared in wide-eyed horror. “Please. It was me who betrayed you. Take it out on me.”</p>
<p>“I find myself unable to bring harm to you. I am left with little recourse.” His hands turned to fists. “But, please; when you hear their screams, when you see them drip with blood, and when you find their suffering too much to think on, know this: that suffering should belong to you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sequel to This World I Take.</p>
<p>Loki's second attempt at world domination has begun. His enemies lie dying at his feet, and the woman who captured his heart is within his possession.</p>
<p>Still, he should know better than to allow the only two creatures he cannot control to be in such close proximity.</p>
<p>Because, Demi-God or not, Dr Caitlyn Black is determined to bring him down.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Unbeknownst to both of them, there is a powerful magic at work, poised to tear both their worlds apart: a curse of the kindest intent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In Counsel

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to my previous work, This World I Take.
> 
> This will probably make more sense if you've read it first.
> 
> Chapters are numbered in the text as one continuous text from Part 1.

### Chapter 35 – In Counsel

#### Part 1 – Of Odin

“Husband?” Frigga asked in hushed tones, gently stirring him from his thoughts. “Thor would speak to you.” She placed her hand on his.

Odin sighed. “He would speak to me, but there is nothing in what he would say…” he rubbed his brow “…save: father I have failed; father, your son Loki brings chaos and death to innocents…” his eyes screwed tightly shut. “…oh, dear Frigga. Have you ever been pained to see your every ill made flesh?”

She did not answer, biting back the vision that haunted her every waking thought.

_'Asgard deserves to fall!'_ the image of Loki screamed, his face drenched in blood. 

“Laufey’s son, yes…” when Odin opened his eyes they were reddish and bleary “…but it was not Laufey who taught him to fight; not Laufey who taught him to be cruel.” His hands ran through his silver hair. “Born Jotun as _Laufeyson_ , but as _Odinson_ has been made a monster. And yet…” he blinked the wet from his tired eyes. “…and yet this traitorous heart would hear him called Odinson once again.”

“Husband.” She hushed him, stroking back his fallen hair. “He is lost. That is all. What is lost can always be found again.”

“If he is found, he is to rot in the dungeons. If he is lost, he makes war on Us, and We must strike him down. I hardly know which to hope for.” Odin bowed his weary head. “If I should use the word _hope_.” He seemed to shake. “Oh, traitor, traitor!” He pounded on his chest. “Would I could cut you out, and leave you be the traitor, not I!”

Frigga stopped in place. “Husband? What mean you by this? What of this word; traitor?”

“Nothing.” He shook his head.

“No, husband. This word, traitor, it means more than you say.” She moved to see his eyes, and from them she drew the truth. “You made Loki free.”

“And with it, I have damned us all.” He breathed slowly, deliberately, shaking the pains from his mind. “Speak of this to no-one, Frigga. The people must not know that all failures spring from the throne. Odin is wise. Odin is infallible.” The noble king seemed so frail. “Odin is me. Alas, I fear I am not Odin.”

Frigga smiled. “Alack, gentle husband. If you are not Odin, then who should be? Perhaps I?” she saw his face lift in reply. “I should grow a great bushy beard and cover my eye…”

He laughed at that.

“And I should forsake my fine dresses for trousers and armour.” She kissed his forehead. “And let all burdens fall upon me.”

He smiled, running his fingers against her cheek. “You would make a fine Odin.”

She held his hand. “But, alas, then there would be no Frigga, and your kingdom would fall apart.”

“Tis true, wife, tis true.” He nodded. “Then it seems I must be Odin.”

“Ah.” Frigga said, standing before him. “And as you must be Odin, it seems fit you must dress as Odin.” She brought him his royal armour, and held it for him to step into. Once this was all accomplished she smiled. “There. The complete image of Odin.” She lowered the helmet onto him. “With Odin’s crown resting upon Odin’s head.”

He kissed her cheek. “Then Odin I am.” He smiled to her. “Would that my son should find a wife such as you…”

“He has a woman, husband. The Midgardian.” She chastised him. “And you are to be pleasant to her.”

He grumbled to himself. “I would be pleasant should he bring home a goat, so long as he did not profess to love the goat!”

“Enough, wicked husband.” She tutted. “She may be the mother of your grandchildren.”

“Perish the thought.” He replied with a smirk, leaving to his reception chambers.

Frigga smiled until the moment he left her sight, then quickly exited the room and went to her own chambers. She dismissed the servants and locked all doors, then tore open the hiding place where she kept her runes. She cleared a heavy table of all detritus, and prepared it, casting spells of conversation that might amplify her connection to Helheim. Oh, Norns be cursed, the connection was with Helheim.

“Hel.” She began. “What ill have you made me do?” She cast forth the runes.

 _‘That which you have asked.’_ Came the reply.

“I asked you to save my son!” Frigga hissed.

_‘No.’_

“What mean you, No?!” she asked.

 _‘You asked to save his heart.’_ Hel answered.

“Save him, save his heart, what difference does it make?!”

_‘All the difference.’_

“So the Norns hear me, if you have led me to harm him, I will come to Helheim myself and teach you of suffering!” Frigga cursed her. As soon as she realised, she shook deeply. She feared to cast the next runes. What suffering, what cruelty could the Mistress Hel threaten upon her? She breathed deeply, and overcame those cold fears. With one shuddering casting, the runes lay before her.

_‘He will thank you.’_

“What?” she gasped.

_‘He will call you mother.’_

Tears sprang to her eyes. She threw them again.

_‘And Odin father.’_

She could hardly breathe.

_‘And you shall see him happy.’_

“How…?” she bit her trembling lip. “How do you know of this?”

 _‘It will be.’_ Hel replied, then all communication fell silent.

Could it be true? If so, how had Frigga seen otherwise? She had heard that Mistress Hel possessed the gift of foresight, but how could it possibly predict such things, which the Norns themselves had not shown to any other?

The Norns…they had always been her guide, always informed her of the path to take. And yet, when she had begged their help, they had denied her where Hel herself had given aid.

Asgard was becoming a strange realm indeed.  
 

#### Part 2 – In Counsel

Heimdall remained silent. It was seldom he was called from his post, and less he was subjected to being a mediator in an argument.

“Heimdall!” Thor beseeched. “Make my good father understand that Loki is not himself!”

“Loki is as much himself as he ever was.” Odin rumbled. “He betrays the both of us, betrays Asgard, threatens your…” he indicated to the mortal woman “…creature, and harms those you call friend. What less of Loki is this, than what you told me occurred in my Odinsleep?”

“Do not call Jane _‘creature’_!” Thor replied.

The mortal Jane shrank back a little, and glanced awkwardly to Heimdall.

“Heimdall, is Loki not as Loki himself?” Odin asked.

Heimdall drew in a breath, only to be interrupted.

“Heimdall, is not Loki changed from the brother I knew?!” Thor almost burst with feeling. “Changed, perhaps not by magics or pains, but through words that have cut more deeply than blades?”

Odin scowled. “He threatens to bring the Chitauri to Midgard a second time, and you trust his word he will not?”

“He will not!” Thor replied. “Heimdall, tell my good father that he will not.”

Odin looked at his son and spat down his words. “Heimdall knows not of Loki’s heart, no longer can he see it. It is cloaked in magic of a dark possession!”

“Then pray, let us find some way to uncloak his dark heart, that it might shine again!” Thor pleaded. “Heimdall?”

“Yes, Heimdall, what do you say?” Odin asked.

He hesitatingly began, choosing careful words that might not be misconstrued. “I cannot see Loki…”

“There you have it, boy.” Odin gestured with rising temperament. “Heimdall sees him not.”

“However…” Heimdall added “…I see some of those around him.”

“What of them, Heimdall? What of the Man of Iron?” Thor looked to be on the verge of collapse. The prince had hardly rested from the moment of his return, and now sentiment drained the last of his strength.

“The Man of Iron lives still, though balanced in the place between realms.”

Thor smiled, his closed fist rising to his lips. “Oh, thank the stars.”

“How?” Odin asked. “You said him to be defeated by Loki.”

“The…” Heimdall began, again unsure as how to describe the mortal in question. “…the woman to whom Loki has shown interest. She keeps him living.”

“Through magic?” Odin stared, confused.

“…of a sort.” Heimdall attempted to explain. “A magic of tubes and potions and gathered lightning.”

“Is she a doctor?” The mortal Jane asked in a quiet mousy voice.

Heimdall nodded. “That is as they call it.”

“I told you, good father. He does not kill the Man of Iron.” Thor beamed. “He will not end his hated enemy. Is that not a sign he is redeemable?”

“Well, what of her, then? What of the woman?” Odin countered.

Heimdall felt himself blush slightly.

“Out with it, Heimdall!” Odin ordered. “Does he harm her?”

“…not as such.”

Odin glared. “What then?”

Heimdall glanced to the mortal Jane. “In present company, I would rather not say.”

Odin raised an eyebrow, while Thor stared, perplexed.

“What mean you, Heimdall?” Thor asked.

“She…” Heimdall cleared his throat. “…he causes her to give worship to Freyr.”

   


#### Part 3 – Shame

Caitlyn moaned loudly. She was going to go to hell for this. Whichever circle of hell was reserved for people who repeatedly fuck evil demi-gods. She imagined it would be pointy.

Loki laughed in her ear. He fucking laughed.

She hated herself for it, but damn it she wasn’t going to stop. But, still, she had thought she’d last a little longer than a week. If she was honest with herself, that wasn’t really the worst part. It was why. She wasn’t fucking him because she had to, or even because she wanted to. She was doing it because she was bored.

He pressed her against the cold tile of the shower, still relentlessly driving into her from behind, whispering what she imagined to be Norse dirty-talk.

One week. Not even a week, more like six and a half days. It had started out fine. She ignored his lingering gaze, his smile, and the faint kisses he had left on her neck. She had other things to deal with; namely keeping Tony Stark from going to that big mechanical lab in the sky. Then, as Tony had stabilised, Loki had reduced the amount of time he allowed for her visits. One hour, twice a day. That left around fourteen waking hours to fill. It turned out that without anything to do, she got bored very easily. Honestly, how long could any human being spend reading about potassium?

“Aah!” she cried as his fingertips played on her clit.

He grazed her shoulder with his teeth.

She hated him. She fucking hated him.

When she was alone, she got bored. When she got bored, she sang. When she sang, Loki showed up. Then, more often than not, they fucked. Unfortunately, it seemed he had discovered this pattern as well.

“Cry out for me, love.” Loki murmured. “Let them hear you in Asgard!” he began a low chuckle as she nearly collapsed around him. Then, the final straw, he kissed her neck.

With a weakened hand, she turned the shower-dial, causing scalding hot water to rain on his back.

He cried out in pain, but didn’t stop, groaning at her. “ _Spriker-legged bitch!_ ”

She drew her hand backwards, and grasped his hair to pull him back into the stream of water. Her hand stung, but she knew he felt it worse.

Loki didn’t stop. He barely faltered until he came, gasping, laughing. “Wonderful!” He leaned around her and switched off the shower.

That fucking bastard liked angry sex.

“Oh, come love.” He smiled, turning her to face him. “Don’t look so sour.” He ran his damp and scalded fingertips across her face. “I know you enjoyed it.”

She pushed past him. “The one thing. The only thing I asked from you was not to kiss me.” She wrapped a towel around herself, folding it into a makeshift dress.

He grinned. “Well. That was not the only thing…” he took a towel, but only chose to run it through his hair. “Come, smile a little. It is not so late in the morning we cannot return to bed…”

She glared at him.

“I forgot!” he laughed, raising his hands up. “In all honesty, I forgot.”

She rolled her eyes and switched on the hairdryer. “That’s a very selective memory you have.” She replied over the sound.

It was bad enough being locked in a bunker with the demi-god she kept hate-fucking. He didn’t have to find it funny too.

He switched off the hairdryer at the wall. “All right. I did not forget. I wanted to see how you would react.” He approached her with calm poise, and brushed back her barely-dried hair. “You are so very amusing.”

“I hate you.” She replied. “With all of my hate.”

Loki tried to hold back a snigger, but failed miserably.

“Get out. Now.”

He smiled broadly, but did as she asked, leaving her alone with her shame and her damp hair.

She could fix one of those things.


	2. Wake Up

### Chapter 36 – Wake Up

#### Part 1 – Condoned Behaviour

Although Loki now had the wonderful freedom to touch Caitlyn whenever he wished, he still took a perverse pleasure in watching her, unobserved. As though he were viewing a secret, illicit life unfold, full of whims and desires that were otherwise hidden away. The way her fingers teased strands of her hair, as she brushed slowly, sensually. The way the waves sprang back after every stroke. The way she stared at her own reflection and smiled, ever so slightly.

If Loki lived to be five thousand, he would never tire of watching her. _His siren._ From the first he had been fated to love her, and he was determined that she should love him back. No matter the price. No matter the time or the forces between them, he would…

His thoughts stopped as she cast her towel to the floor. She began to hum to herself some unfamiliar tune, and it took everything within him not to go forward. Not to touch her. Not to feel her skin beneath his tongue, and hear her cry out his name.

No. The urge was too great. If he fought it any longer he might go mad.

He allowed his illusion to lift, revealing his position; reclined on her bed. He smirked, waiting for her to notice. She did not. He waited a little longer, and still she ignored him.

She reached into the large wardrobe, and pulled out a dress of deep navy silk, once more rejecting the emerald one that he had placed so prominently. She screamed and jumped back as his illusion formed; a black python that circled down her arms. “You!” she shouted at him, immediately darting to grasp her towel. “You absolute fucking bastard!”

“I prefer you in the green.” He replied calmly, determined not to let himself laugh again.

“I told you to fuck off!” her face began to turn several shades of red.

“No, you told me to get out, which I did.” He folded one leg over the other in a gesture of relaxed disinterest. “I did not promise to go far.”

She shook her head. “I was about to ask you if you were embarrassed about being such a fucking pervert, but clearly not.”

He smiled, placing his hands behind his head. “Clearly not.” He repeated, still watching her. “You may continue.”

“I am not your personal peep show, Loki.” She glared, and stepped behind the wardrobe door.

He used his magic to appear beside her. “I rather think you are.” He pulled the towel from her with gentle force, revealing her skin. “You need not cover yourself, Caitlyn. Not in front of me.” He trailed his fingers down her neck. “What inch of your skin have I not already seen? Touched?” he grinned as she shivered beneath his fingertips. “Tasted?”

“Stop it.” Her voice was weak, without conviction.

His fingers followed the curve of her collarbone. “I would prefer you wear the green.”

Her lips gently parted. “Because it’s your colour?”

He smiled. “Yes.”

Something in her expression turned. She grasped his hand. “Loki. I don’t know how to make this any clearer to you: I don’t like you.”

He could have laughed. “Really? Is that so?”

“Have you ever heard the phrase: _‘I wouldn’t piss on him if he was on fire’_?”

He twisted the arm that grabbed him, pinning it behind her back, and pressed her forwards against his chest. “My, what a _filthy_ mouth you have.” he whispered, almost touching her lips with his own.

“Are you kidding me? You’re actually _naked_?” She hissed.

He grinned widely, enjoying her little struggle. “I take it you are impressed by my illusion. I thought it apt, given the manner in which you seem to so often call on me.” His free hand stroked along her jawbone. “All your barbs and vitriol, and all you really want is a good hard fuck.”

She slapped him hard across the face.

He laughed in reply, especially so when she glared at him. Given a few moments, he managed to compose himself. “Is that a no?” he smiled.

A clear energy circled around his head, calling him.

“Damn.” He sighed. “I’m afraid I must leave you for a while.” He released her from his grip, and went to dress in real clothes.

“What, you’re going to wear trousers now?” she asked, voice dripping with distain.

“It requires a great deal of concentration to maintain an illusion.” He replied, pulling on Midgardian wear. “And it is rather embarrassing to find oneself suddenly naked in the middle of a meeting.”

She turned from him, adorning herself with dark lace.

How he wished she would wear the green dress…

“Another visit with the council of evil?” she asked him.

“No. Something else…” he approached her, silently stepping, his arms slowly slinked around her naked waist. “…What is this? Are you trying to learn my secrets? To seduce me, deceive me, and become my downfall?” he smiled, his face caressed by waves of her hair. “Caitlyn, I thoroughly condone this duplicitous behaviour.”

“Don’t you mean, _condemn_?” she pretended to ignore his stroking fingers, as they lazily grazed her thigh.

“No, I believe I mean _condone_.” Loki let his hand drift upwards, playing upon the small band of lace between her legs. “A woman on her knees may get anything she asks.” He felt her hips writhe against him. “Should she be willing to earn it.”

The signal returned, more urgent than ever. The magic in it virtually screamed.

He cursed under his breath. Now he was hardened as well. That damned woman.

“Sounds like you’re needed elsewhere.” She said sweetly. She stepped away from his opened arms, bent over slowly, and pulled on the navy dress.

Loki knew she was doing this to pain him.

She turned and waved him away. “Off you fuck.”

He took her hand and brought it to his lips. “We shall continue this, later.”

Her expression as he kissed her knuckles; something like despair.

_It would not be long until she broke._  

 

#### Part 2 – Wake Up

Caitlyn finally started breathing again once Loki had vanished. It felt like she was choking, that the air was too hot and empty of oxygen. She sank to the floor, dark silk pooling around her like thick liquid, threatening to pull her down, deeper into the earth.

_You fucking slut. You fucking whore._

She dragged her nails over her scalp, on the verge of drawing blood. There was nowhere to run now. Nowhere to hide. Nothing to distract her from what she was: Weak. Selfish. Bad.

_About two minutes and some ugly words away from letting him fuck you again._

_Selfish fucking whore._

“No…” she whispered to herself. “No.” This time with more confidence. She raised her head high, and began to recite _Invictus_. By the last few lines, she felt strong enough to rise to her feet.

>   
> _“It matters not how straight the gate,_  
>  _How charged with punishments the scroll,_  
>  _I am the master of my fate:_  
>  _I am the captain of my soul.”_

She smiled. Fuck Loki. Fuck his speeches and his grand plans. Fuck his illusions and charm. He couldn’t trap her mind. He couldn’t erase who she was. He couldn’t buy her off with hearts and flowers and lies.

She laughed.

What a fucking idiot. To think that by giving her dresses and jewels that she’d become a perfect mistress. She would have worn a fucking potato sack if she’d been given the option, and she’d never cared much for gold or rocks. She reached into the drawers to find the one thing she actually wanted draped around her neck: her stethoscope.

Now the face in the mirror was one she recognised.

A month stuck in an underground bunker couldn’t erase nearly a decade of her life. He couldn’t make her vain just by wrapping her in silk. Every kind word wouldn’t make her forget why she was really there; to keep Tony Stark alive.

And Loki, with all of his pathetic pride, knew it.

Some fucking god. Jealous of a guy in a coma.

Caitlyn gathered her things together; what little Loki had allowed her to keep, and one of the emergency first-aid kits. He hadn’t been so stupid as to let her have another syringe of Haloperidol, not when it had knocked his guard out for a good few hours, but he had a shockingly poor understanding of medical science. Loki was so convinced he was smarter than mortals, he didn’t appreciate that she was working with knowledge of millions of the brightest people ever to have lived. Hell, the drugs in the emergency kit alone could kill an elephant if used in the right combination. Given the right opportunity, she could have a good go at stopping a god.

She left the room, walking past the guards, hearing them follow closely behind. “Good morning.” She said pleasantly.

They didn’t reply. They never did. They had been ordered not to talk to her, she assumed.

“It’s Friday, isn’t it?” she asked.

The guard on her right clutched his rifle closer.

“Why the fuck do you carry that anyway?” She stopped, making deliberate eye-contact. “It’s not like you’re going to shoot me, is it?”

He stared above her head.

“Fuck’s sake.” She rolled her eyes. “I swear, one of these days, I’m going to make you laugh.”

Silence.

She turned away from him, and continued down the corridor. Narrow concrete walls gave way to metal scaffolding and the buzz of machinery. The odd lighting and equipment made everything seem slightly blue. Behind closed doors, there were machines she doubted she could pronounce, let alone describe. She only saw them in fleeting glances as blue-eyed workers entered and left. When she had tried to get a closer look, she had only been pulled away.

Eventually, she reached Tony’s room. She stopped in the doorway. It caught her every time; just how surreal it was to see him like that. Without that conscious spark he wasn’t Tony anymore, he was just like all the other coma patients she had seen. A bag of flesh, just drifting along. The scars that lined his face seemed not to belong to him, like they had been painted on. She opened his eyelids, and shone a light into his eyes. No response. She closed them again.

“Alright, Tony?” she asked the unresponsive man. “It’s Friday. That means it’s trivia time.” She smiled to him. She pulled back a little fluid from the NG tube, checking it still lay in his stomach, then set up his breakfast. “Did you know that there are eight different bones in the human wrist?” She checked the cannula in the back of his hand, and flushed it through with a little bit of saline. “The boat, the moon, the triangle, the pea…” she felt his pulse; a strong, steady 60 “…trapezium, trapezoid, the head, and the hook.”

His breathing was deep and calm, and his chest clear.

“It always reminds me of that poem, you know? The Owl and the Pussycat.” She listened around the glowing chest-plate, and took a quick cursory glance around it. “I have to be honest, Tony, I could really do with a cardiologist here. I’m a general paediatrician. I don’t have the first clue what this is or if it’s working.” She stared into the bright blue glow. “You’re a brilliant man, Tony, but you shouldn’t have tried to save me.” She blinked to clear her eyes.

Not for the first time, she noticed the black box on the counter beside her. She didn’t need to open it to know what was inside. Not when she could so painfully see it in the rest of the room. Everything was cold metal; the doors locked from the outside; the bed had restraints.

“Tony. Please. You have to do something for me.” She whispered, holding his hand in her own. “Please, don’t wake up. Not yet.”  
 

#### Part 3 – Saviour

Loki carefully stepped around scattered piles of paper. “What have you found?” he asked the scholar. He hoped the pages would hold the key to understanding the prophecies in the ancient Book of Rossthof, but these words seemed to be senseless scratchings.

The man trembled. “Please. My God, please help me.” Tears streamed down his face. “I can’t. I am frightened.”

“Frightened of what?” Loki asked, completely puzzled. “What is it, my child?” There were runic symbols carved into the floor, and only now he noticed that they climbed the walls. The words were ones he did not recognise. “What does it say?”

“I cannot…” the man cried.

The only light in the room shone from a single bare lightbulb, and cast shadows over the scholar’s face.

“You cannot do what?” Loki went to the wall, tracing the carved symbols. He tried to sound out the words, and in an instant felt his throat grow cold. He fell to the floor, paralyzed.

The scholar approached him, still weeping. “I cannot! I cannot!” he covered his ears and shook violently. “Stop! Do not make me!”

Loki tried to flee, but his magic failed him. He could only stare up at the screaming man.

“I cannot hurt God!” For a moment, the white of his eyes turned black. Then, in a blink, they returned.

Loki tried to pull in a breath, each small movement countered by a stinging restrictive force.

The scholar drew a knife. “Please!” he begged.

Loki stared as the knife came closer. He could sense the magic in it. Old magic.

_The magic of the cursed weapons._

Closer. Closer. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe.

“I am sorry.” The man wept. “Please. Please forgive me, my God.”

The blade lay against his throat, and slowly pierced the skin.

Loki wanted to cry out, but it failed.

“I…” the scholar faltered, his shaking hands digging the cut deeper.

Hot blood began to trickle out.

That was when Loki’s Jotun form erupted.

The blue skin burst through, and shattered the paralysing magic. In less than a second, he appeared behind the scholar and snapped the mortal’s neck. The man slipped to the floor, skin tinged with blue.

Loki gasped, drawing in the lacking breaths. His hand ran to his throat, where blood still streamed. He pressed his magic into the wound, but still the blood ran black down his fingertips.

_A wound he could not heal._

He could feel himself emptying with every drop that drained.

Loki summoned his magic as fast as he could, bringing him back to the underground facility. He appeared before two of his guards. “Bring her!” he shouted to them “Bring her now!”

They ran from the room.

He lowered himself into a chair, pressing desperately against his neck. He realised he was still Jotun in appearance, and with some concentration managed to change back.

Drips of his blood slipped down, pooling on the floor.

“What is it now?” Caitlyn asked as they pushed her into the room. “What the fuck?!” she stared in horror. She ran to him, pulling tools from a green box. She pressed a small cloth against the wound. “How the fuck did this happen?”

“A knife.” He replied through gritted teeth.

“But how…?” she opened a package, and put on thin white gloves. “I mean, can’t you…?”

He hissed a breath. “If I could, I would.”

“Well, let me see.” She ordered, pulling his hand away. She replaced the cloth back, pressing firmly upon it. “You’ve caught the jugular. I mean, it’s a vein. If you keep the pressure up, eventually it should…”

“It will not!” he barked. “I know of this weapon. It will not heal!”

“Well, what do you want me to do?” she asked. “If it’s a case of the wound edges not closing, I could dissect it down, get some healthy tissue…”

“No. Your knives will not cut my flesh.” He felt blood slip through the cloth, down his arm.

“So I guess suturing it’s out of the question?”

He nodded.

“Cauterising?” she offered. “Heat. I can burn the edges, then dissect out the burnt tissue.”

He nodded reluctantly. “That may work.”

She rummaged through the equipment. “Bring me something hot!” she shouted to the guards. “Soldering iron, something like that.”

They returned in seconds.

“Right.” She warned. “I can’t separate it from the skin, so this might hurt.”

Loki suppressed a cry as his flesh burned. He could smell the acrid stench as smoke curled in the air. Relief came in moments, as his skin bound itself together. The flow of blood was stemmed. He calmed himself with a slow, deep breath, eyes raised upwards.

He turned to her, and took her now bare hands in his own blood-soaked ones. “Caitlyn. Thank you.” He told her in earnest.

She tried to pull away from him. “I’ve got things to do, Loki. I have to…”

“You have saved me, Caitlyn.” He smiled. “Thank you.” He kissed her hands. Her wonderful healing hands.

“Let me go.” Her face showed sadness.

He owed her his continued existence, the least he could do was to comply with that one request. “How can I thank you?”

She sighed, and turned just before she left the room. “Don’t make me regret it.”

Once he was alone, he began to laugh. He caught sight of himself in one of the metal trays; his dark hair matted with blood; the stains soaking into his shirt. Surely a sorry excuse for a prince! _A king._ He corrected himself.

_A nearly deposed king._

And she had saved him. There was only one gift that could possibly repay that.

He travelled through the space between, to his destination. There the man lay; so absent, virtually still. Loki laid his hand upon the rising chest, his magic flowing around the metal circle, into the unconscious body.

“Time to wake, Mr Stark.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooh!
> 
> Let me know what you think.
> 
> x Pinch


	3. Terms of Taste

### Chapter 37 – Terms of Taste

#### Part 1 – Good Morning, Sunshine

Tony Stark hadn’t really figured himself as a guy who might die. Not in Afghanistan. Not when he’d fallen from the sky…the last time, or the time before. Still, he’d always assumed that if such an unlikely thing were to happen, he’d have said something more poetic than…

“Ow…” he groaned.

That was the thing no-one told you about being a hero. It hurt just as much the second time around. Now he remembered; he’d pretty much fallen face-first into the ground from near-stratosphere. But he wasn’t on the ground now. He wasn’t sure where he was exactly, only that it probably wasn’t good.

With some difficultly he opened his eyes, finding them blurry. The light felt like a knife driving into his brain, and he quickly shut it out. He tried to raise his hands, but they were incredibly heavy, like when his suit had failed mid-test, and he’d had to manually detach every part…

The suit. Where was the suit?

He braved the light again, through glimpses between his eyelashes. A white room…maybe some machines…not ones he was used to, though. As though his ears finally woke up, he heard a piercing cry from next to his head. Over and over it screeched, like ground glass on a chalkboard made of cats.

_Fuck._

This was one hell of a hangover.

_“Tony.”_ The voice sounded wobbly, like it was spinning on a carousel.

He tried to move towards the voice, but he suddenly felt a blinding pain shooting across his side. He cried out, and collapsed back into his resting position, the pain numbing a little.

_“…still, Tony…”_ the voice told him, and he felt a hand holding his.

“Pep…” he breathed. Soothing waves rushed over him, and he drifted back into sleep.  
 

#### Part 2 – Reconnaissance

“Get this shit packed up, now!” Fury ordered the Shield strike team. “Two minutes, and we are gone!”

“Yes sir!” came the reply.

Two minutes…even two minutes might be too long. Fury surveyed the squalid little cave; one lightbulb hung bare in the centre, and what little of it wasn’t covered in those Norse carvings was instead dripping with blood. Not the victim’s blood, though. That was a straight-forward _‘transection of the cervical spine’_ , or so he had been told. Though, the medics had found an old scar in the man’s forearm, and Fury knew all too well what that read…

“Weapon secure, sir.” one of the agents informed him, locking the Shield crate with ID codes known only to a few.

“What do we do with the papers?” another asked.

“Grab what you can, Agent Smith, photograph the rest.” Fury replied, pacing the floor to what appeared to be some kind of altar. “Ninety seconds!” The camera flashes danced in the corners of his eye, but he was more concerned with something else. A small black book, embossed with gold, only one word on the cover: _‘Rossthof’_. _“Now, why in the hell can I read that?”_ he muttered to himself.

Light glinted off the lettering, seeming to move with a glow of its own. As Fury’s hand felt the cover beneath his fingertips, the shapes beneath his hand were different. More like runes than any alphabet he was used to.

“Sir!” a voice stirred him. “Sir, we need to go, now!” Agent Hill shouted from near the doorway.

Fury glanced around. It seemed he had lost track of time. “Hill, I’m getting a very bad fucking feeling right about now…”

Without so much as a big flashy entrance, the demi-god appeared.

Hill raised her weapon in her left hand, the right restrained in a cast. “I’ve got a clean shot, Sir!”

“Really?” Loki smirked. “Is this any way to greet a king?” he stared in an unbroken gaze, stepping calmly across the floor. “Come Nicholas, let us exchange pleasantries. Show your defiance in your charm. I have been told that belies a great character.”

“I am not gonna call you king just because you got France to surrender.” Fury matched the god’s grin. “Tell you what; you conquer Russia and I’ll send you a muffin basket.”

Loki laughed; a cruel and cold thing. “It was nice to see Ms Romanova back where she belongs…” he began. “…though, I must say, I did not expect your Captain _‘America’_ to switch sides so easily. Perhaps he shall have to change his name to _‘Comrade Rodgers’_!”

“Sir!” Hill persisted.

“Stand down, Agent!” Fury ordered, a little too late.

Loki turned to face her. “Maria. It has been too long.”

“Sir, I can shoot the bastard between the eyes!” She snapped.

“Still sore from our last meeting, Maria?” Loki purred. “I do hope I left a scar.”

“Stand down, Hill!” Fury shouted.

Her face hardened, hand steady.

“Oh, come now. If not for duty, then surely for your niece?” Loki spoke with amused calm.

“You’ll never find her.” Hill spat.

“No, I’m sure I will never find her in Texas.” Loki laughed. “That would take all of twenty minutes of my time, and I am a very busy king.”

Her calm shattered.

“Maria. Stand down.” Fury said softly. “I’ve got this. Go.”

She nodded, lowered the weapon and ran.

Loki turned back, sneering. “You know, I had no idea she was left handed also. I shall make sure to snap both next time.”

“I take it this was you.” Fury indicated to the chaos and the blood.

Loki raised his arms, palms upward, in a gesture of innocence. “What can I say? I am used to other people taking care of the mess. And…” he stepped closer “…speaking of messes, where might I find Doctor Banner?”

“Where is Tony Stark?” Fury replied.

Loki’s face twitched in annoyance. “Tony Stark is dead.”

“Yeah? Show me the body.” Fury slipped the book into his pocket while the god’s head was turned.

In a flash Loki was standing less than an inch before him. “I will show you a thousand bodies!” he hissed “I will show you blood and bone and ash!”

Fury stayed his footing, trying not let a muscle twitch, as the psycho-god glared him down.

And Loki laughed. He stepped back a little, nearly doubling over with hilarity.

“You’re in a better mood than usual.” Fury observed.

Loki sighed, smirking. “That I am, Nicholas.” He placed a hand on Fury’s shoulder. “And now the book, if you would.”

Reluctantly, he handed it over. “So, what’s it like being king?”

Loki flipped through the pages, before closing the book. “…satisfying.” He gave a small grin to Fury. “The offer still stands, should you wish to change sides.” The book was slipped away into a pocket of the long leather coat. “I could use a General.”

It was Fury’s turn to laugh. “I am too old to start switching sides. You know how many people I gotta save just to balance out my soul now?”

Loki shrugged. “It will be a shame to have to kill you, Nicholas.” He held out his hand.

Fury shook it firmly. “Not if I kill you first.”

With a single sighing laugh, Loki vanished as quickly as he had appeared.

Fury raised his communicator. “Wheels up. Let’s go.”

That guy was fucking crazy, but Fury’d take happy-crazy over evil-crazy any day of the week. 

 

#### Part 3 – Terms of Taste

Loki found himself in such a sublimely good mood as he paced the halls of his underground lair. He cared little for the various niggling complaints and objections thrown about; his mind otherwise occupied. For when Loki found himself in such high spirits, something overcame his higher thoughts, some base instinct determined to keep him in a state of amusement.

He felt like playing a game. And it just so happened that he now possessed his favourite playmate.

“What?” Caitlyn responded to the knock and opening of her door. She looked so delicious; hair splayed across silken sheets; the hem of her dress crept ever so slightly up, exposing her left thigh.

If he had been in a different mood, he might have pounced upon her then and there. But he had something else in mind. “I thought, perhaps, you might wish to dine with me.” He smiled.

She sighed, sitting upright. “It’s not chicken korma and mulled wine again? I told you that was a terrible combination.”

Loki closed the door shut behind him. “It was not so terrible.”

“You have no taste-buds.” She replied.

He walked closer, grasping her hands and lifting her to her feet. “Come. I shall even forgive you dressing in such a dull colour.” he smirked; she flinched as he stroked at her waist.

“I…” she began, cheeks flushed.

“It is something called _‘Sushi’_.” He gently pulled her into a dance. “Do you like Sushi?”

“Yes, actually, but…” her body conformed perfectly to his as he swayed her, as though she had been made for him to dance with.

“Yes. Then there can be no objection.” He dipped her low, bending with her and letting his breath chill the skin between her breasts. “I am starving; and if you deny me this, I might find other ways to make…my…amusement.” He pulled her up, slowly, feeling her shudder against her will.

That entertained him no end.

“Fine.” Caitlyn said, avoiding his eyes.

He smiled. “Oh, I do love it when you play coy.” He brought his lips to hers; close enough to feel the heat of her skin. “It’s like breaking you all over again.”

She pursed her lips, glaring. “I’m not broken, Loki.”

“Of course, my darling.” He replied.

She was such fun to play with.  
 

#### Part 4 – Predilections

Caitlyn tried not to look at him. Instead she focused on the harsh lights, the concrete walls, the ridiculous baroque furniture. How the hell did he get antiques this far underground? She tried not to feel his eyes on her; that predatory, hungry glare. In fact, she tried to ignore him outright, but that never really worked. Eventually she broke the silence. “It’s rude to stare.”

“It is also rude not to engage your host in conversation.” Loki replied with a sly smile. “Perhaps we are both guilty of a touch of vulgarity.” He reclined in his high-backed dining chair, leg draped loosely over one of the arms. Maybe that was part of his whole ‘thing’ – every chair had to be a throne, every sheet had to be made of silk.

_Every time he sat down he had to angle his fucking cock towards her._

“Fine. Conversation then.” She attempted to push through her irritation. It really pissed her off when he was so happy. The way he smiled… She took another heavy sip of whisky. “Kill anyone today?”

“Caitlyn, come. Be pleasant.” He rose to refill her glass. “Or would you rather I bend you over the table and teach you some manners?” His fingertips slipped down the side of her neck, gently curling around her throat.

_You don’t like it. You don’t want it. You can’t want it._

His voice dropped low. “Ooh. Curse your fluttering heart, for it gives away secrets held silent by your tongue.” His fingers made slow circles. “Hush. It is no sin to want to take orders from your king.”

“What about from a megalomaniac masochist who wants to be beaten up by a woman?” She heard the words as they left her lips. Fucking whiskey; it always seemed determined to get her into trouble.

“My, you are bold now!” he laughed. He knelt behind her, one hand holding her neck in place, the other snaking over her stomach. “And I am a _sadist_ , not a masochist.” The coldness of his skin made her hairs stand on end. He gripped her neck a little more tightly. “I will gladly have either my pain or yours…”

A combination of the drink, Loki’s words and his choking hands made her feel lightheaded. Like she was floating, falling into silk…

“…though I am not sure which you would prefer.” The fingers of his lower hand tip-toed down towards the hem of her dress. “I think the predilections I have met might surprise you. It is so often the innocent girl with the sweetest smile who longs to be break out the whip. It is the one who speaks so prettily who whispers foul curses in the night. Or the creature with so much fight…” he gently drew the silk up her thigh “…who simply wants to fight no more.”

“Or…” she whispered so that he drew closer. She kept his same slow, seductive tone “…the god so full of shit, he thinks that’s actually going to work.” She tilted her head to his.

Loki stared at her, stunned. There was a brief flicker of something dark, then he turned to his usual wide grin. He rose to his feet and returned to the overly-opulent chair. “Well, you cannot blame a man for trying.”

“I’m pretty sure you can. It’s called: _‘sexual harassment’_.” She retorted, turning back to the whisky.

Maybe if she drank enough she’d forget the way his words made her skin tingle.

“I should like to play a game with you.” He stated, that smile never leaving his eyes.

She shook her head. _The twisted fucker._ “I’m guessing this isn’t some kind of card game.”

“Not in the slightest.” He replied, running a long finger over his lips.

“And why, dare I ask, should I want to play this game?”

“For what you might win.” He was being deliberately mysterious.

_Very fucking annoying._

She rolled her eyes. “And what might that be?”

“Oh, what every reluctant pet dreams of…” He paused, and bit into the pulp of his finger, staring at her as he did so. After taking his dramatic pause, he finally spoke words she was not expecting: “…an open door.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay.
> 
> What with family commitments and everything else, writing has been a little disrupted.
> 
>  
> 
> Hope you enjoy!
> 
> x Pinch


	4. Your Most Obvious Weakness

### Chapter 38 – Your Most Obvious Weakness

#### Part 1 – Impossible

“You…” Caitlyn tried to form speech, but her head was spinning “You’d let me go?”

“Nothing of the sort!” Loki laughed. “But I thought you might like to have a little more freedom. The ability to come and go as you please. Perhaps you might enjoy my library; it has been sadly neglected of late.”

“But not to visit Tony.”

“No.” he said in harsh tones. “Your visits to him would be as before.”

“Loki, he needs 24 hour care. He’s unconscious.” She attempted to reason with him.

“Then perhaps less of your attention is required. And we shall let the harm heal that which the healing harms.” He sneered. “Of course I know, Caitlyn. Stark is unconscious by your interference alone. But…” he drew the glass to his lips, taking a slow sip. “…I forgive you. As it seems I always do.”

She shook in place, saying the only words she could. “Thank you.”

At that he smiled broadly.

“Loki…” she began “…you don’t do something for nothing. What do you want, if you should win this hypothetical game?”

“Your freedom.” He purred. “All of it.” He swirled the glass of whisky in his hand, watching her through the waves. “I have been considering ropes, chains… _cages_.”

A chill crept over her skin, and she tried hard not to shudder.

“You have no idea how greatly I long to see you naked, suspended by your wrists, writhing helplessly as I practice upon you.” He took another lingering sip of the drink.

“Why?”

“Why?” he repeated, laughing “Why not?!”

“No, I mean...if that’s what you want, why haven’t you done it already?” at this point the whisky was definitely driving her.

Loki stared back at her. “I do have a certain sense of fair play, darling! And besides, when you fail, both of us will know that it is because of your desire…” he shifted, suddenly dressed in the metal and leather armour, green cape flowing down his back “…to submit to your king.”

“Seriously? The helmet too?” she asked, eyebrow raised.

“Always.”

She felt a creeping suspicion. “Have you ever…worn that…?” she broke off, realising she didn’t really want to know the answer.

“Several times.” He replied, grinning.

“You really are _‘that guy’_ , aren’t you?”

He gave a smirk and a shrug for an answer.

She buried her head in her hands. “God, I really need to re-evaluate my life choices.”

“Yes, perhaps you do. But before that is the matter of our game. Look at me, Caitlyn.” He ordered. “Look at me. I can wait far longer than you.”

“Ok?” she sighed.

“Better. I will have your full attention.” He vanished before her. The next thing she knew, his fingers were teasing her hair. “Place your hands behind your back. Now.”

“I’m not…” she shook her head.

“Do it. Now.” He whispered in her ear. “This is how we begin.”

“I haven’t agreed to play your game.” She replied, gaze still firmly forwards.

“You will do as I instruct, or I shall make things more difficult for you.” He warned.

“Then make it more difficult. Hell, make it impossible, because you’re playing by yourself.” She went to stand, but found his hands pushing her down into the chair.

“An hour and a half, twice a day.” Loki’s reluctance was clear.

“Two hours.”

“Hmm.” His fingers dug in to her shoulders. “I think not. My offer is final.”

“Whether I win or lose?” She could feel her heart race. Why the hell was she doing this?

“…Fine.” He hissed.

For someone supposed to be a _‘Liesmith’_ he sure wore his heart on his sleeve.

She tentatively moved her hands from her lap, and folded them behind the back of the chair. “Ow!” she shouted as he plucked a hair from her head. “What was that for?”

He didn’t answer yet, pulling her wrists tightly together, then winding the single strand around them. “If you break it, you lose.” Next, he wrapped something around her neck, and fastened it firmly.

_Velcro?_

He casually shoved the table aside, and brought his throne before her. He sat, and drew her forwards so that their knees were touching.

Like before. In the train. When he had…

She bit her lip, trying to keep the memories away.

He smiled. “Tell me what you thought about just then. When you had to hurt yourself to bring your mind back.” 

“No.” She jumped as a biting electric charge encircled her neck. “Fuck!” she tested the hair: still intact, thankfully.

“You told me to make this more difficult, Caitlyn. So I won’t burden you with knowing all the rules. You shall have to learn them as you go.”

_Fucking psycho. Fucking sadistic fucking psycho._

“Do you understand?” he asked, fingers tracing ornate woodwork on the arms of his chair.

“Yes.” She replied, only be struck again. “Hey! What the actual fuck?!” she shouted.

“I’m sorry my dear. The correct response was: _‘Yes, my King’_.” He didn’t even try to hide his grin.

“There is no fucking…Ah!” she hissed. Each zap was just as strong as the first. She tried to let her arms hang loose, anticipating the next hit.

“We shall work on that.” He vanished, appeared by the table, then returned with his glass in hand. The liquid swayed slightly with the journey. “Now. What were you thinking about?”

“Nothing.” Another jolt made her gasp for breath, the hair stretching slightly, beginning to push into her skin.

“Try again.”

“I’ve forgotten… Fuck!” she squirmed, trying to loose the collar from around her neck, and not making any progress.

“No.” Loki replied, a look of disinterest on his face as he brought the glass to his lips.

She twisted her wrists, trying to find a way of… “Hell!”

“You took too long.” He responded to the question she hadn’t yet asked. His throat rose and fell as he swallowed another sip of whisky.

“I was…” she fought through her embarrassment. “I was thinking about you…on the train…”

“Really?” he grinned, leaning back and pressing his knees into the space between hers. Without warning he spread her legs apart. “When I did something of this sort? Look at me, Caitlyn.”

She complied. The dress had now slipped significantly up her thighs.

“Good. It seems you _can_ take orders, when you deign to do so.”

She gave a bitter smile.

He took another sip, staring at her bare legs.

“How long is this going to take, because…Fucker!” she hissed, this time resolving to grip her wrists tightly together.

“Attitude.” He corrected her, then rose to refill his glass. “On Asgard…” he began.

“Shit!” she screamed.

“Attitude. I saw you roll your eyes, Caitlyn.”

She bit into the tip of her tongue to keep it still.

“On Asgard…” he poured the bottle with great care “…given the opportunity, I would always ask for the more difficult servants. The ones who had disobeyed, or argued, or displeased their masters in some way. And they all said the same thing: _‘Thank you for having faith in me.’_!” He laughed loudly. “ _‘No.’_ I said to them. _‘Have faith in me.’_ ” His voice dropped low and dangerous. “ _‘My methods are particular, and I achieve results.’_ ” He let every last drop drain out, filling the glass to the brim.

Caitlyn didn’t like that glint in his eye.

“After all, you train a mare by showing her the prize, and by letting her feel the crop.” With his balance and poise, he was sure not to let any of the liquid spill as he approached.

“Are you comparing me to…Motherfucker!” she swore he was turning the voltage up. “You fucking sadist!”

“Yes.” Loki replied calmly. “Caitlyn. If you merely accept that there is a point in the game at which you will lose, submission becomes so much easier. Now. Knees together.” He ordered, lowering the glass between them.

She did as he asked, apparently being ordered to hold the glass between her bare thighs. Her face jolted slightly as she felt the cold.

“Good.” He purred. “Now be a good girl, and don’t spill a drop.” He leaned in close, smiling against her lips. The cold metal of his stupid helmet pressed against her forehead.

“Go fuck yourself.” She replied sweetly, earning another shock. Gripping her hands together was working; she hadn’t put any tension on the strand. The glass, however…

Loki set his helmet aside, bent down and trailed his tongue over the spilled droplets, around the back and inside of her thighs.

The sight of his sleek black hair against her legs brought back more unwelcome memories. She squirmed, more of the liquid spilling out.

He grinned. “You really are terrible at this.” He informed her as he pressed his lips against the outside of her left thigh, and sucked. Lips, tongue, teeth.

She realised what he was doing; he was giving her a fucking lovebite. “Are you marking me?!”

“Yes.” He replied briefly, returning to the task in hand.

“Why?!” she asked, despairing. She gasped at another shock, the glass now half-empty.

The bruise growing, Loki moved on to other whisky-soaked areas of skin. “You have no aptitude for this, whatsoever.” After leaving two more bruises, he surveyed the glass. “Hmm, I shall have to get more. Don’t move.”

“Like I…” she found she was now speaking to an empty room. “…have a choice.”

She did have a choice, though; she could easily snap the strand of hair, make a run for it, and…wait all of the twenty seconds it would take for him to find her. Ok, so it wasn’t a great choice, but it was hers to make.

>   
> _A long night spent with your most obvious weakness;_   
> _You start shaking at the thought._   
> _You are everything I want,_   
> _‘Cause you are everything I’m not._   
> 

A voice inside teased her; _deep down, you know you like this._

_You like the way he uses you._

_You like not having to think anymore._

_You like not having to be anything anymore._

Loki returned, smirking. “Do try harder this time.”

Unfortunately, he chose to approach her at exactly the wrong moment. A sharp, unexpected kick to the shin was followed by the sound of glass splintering.

He grasped her hair, pulled her face up to his, and kissed her roughly.

She thrashed and writhed beneath him, refusing to break the strand and lose their game. She sunk her teeth into his lip.

He released her, laughing. “It seems the bitch still has bite!” he descended into his chair, staring and chuckling, his tongue feeling the flesh of his lip.

“Call me a bitch one more time. See what happens.” She braced herself for another shock, but instead he just sighed.

“Oh. If I had found a servant such as you, I would never have left my bedchambers.” He leant on his arm. “What am I to do with you, darling?” he looked to the floor. “You have quite thoroughly destroyed that glass.”

She shrugged.

He leant over, picked up his helmet, and placed it back onto his head.

“You look ridiculous.” That got her a shock. “This isn’t going to make me like you.” Another. “Oh fuck off!”

“You could always concede.” He offered, opening the bottle.

“Or you could.”

He let out a single laugh. “Drink?”

She thought about it a moment. “Yes, please.”

She had assumed there would be a glass involved.

Loki brought the neck of the bottle to her lips, and tilted it back.

She tried to swallow what she could, but he deliberately tipped it further. She gave a muffled protest as the liquid dripped down her neck, and still he poured.

“Such a mess, darling.” He brought his lips to her collarbone, and sucked at the trail of alcohol that streamed past, beneath the shock collar.

She coughed and spluttered, finally making him cease. “Fucking nut! What are you trying to do; drown me?! Set me on fire?!” She breathed a little easier once the collar was removed. “Make me smell like a homeless man?”

He knelt before her, seeming to be at a loss for words. Still smiling, though.

_And he did have such a nice smile…_

Fucking whisky.

_Do not smile back._

He made a noise; something like _‘heh’_ ; he paused, staring at the floor. “You…eh…you seem to bring out something in me.”

_And…where the fuck is this going?_

“Do you…” he shook his head briefly. “Never mind. Foolishness.” He looked up; tears of laughter in his eyes. “Do one thing for me, and I shall acquiesce.”

“What is it?” She asked cautiously.

“Use my bathing chambers to wash.” He placed his hands gently onto her knees. “Only that. I…” he tried to blink his eyes dry. “I ask no more than that.”

Weighing her options, it didn’t seem too bad a deal. His room was close-by, and it wasn’t like he hadn’t seen her naked before. “Fine. Sure.”

He offered her his hand to shake, which she did.

Forgetting, of course, about the strand of hair.

Victory was written across his face.

_You fell for that? Seriously?_

She groaned loudly. “Oh, fucking hell.”

“Now, my dear, you _did_ tell me to make it impossible.” He smirked, gripping her hand tightly in his own. “Though I did not expect that to be so easy!”

“I hate myself so much right now.”

Loki giggled. “Oh, my poor little pet.” He cooed, brushing back her hair. “I almost feel sorry for you.” He smiled. “Almost, but not quite.” He rose to his feet. “Come; I shall bathe you before I fuck you senseless.” He pulled on her arm. “Come, Caitlyn, or I _will_ carry you.”  
 

#### Part 2 – Cold

Loki smiled, his fingers trailing across the surface of the water, watching ripples dance over her. She looked so perfect in water.

“You’re serious? You actually want to wash my hair?” she stared at him. “Why?”

“There is no why. It is what I wish. Accept that.” He so loved to test the bounds of her obedience.

“…ok…” she closed her eyes and lay back in the water. Her hair spread in waves, dancing lightly.

If he had possessed less sense and more courage, he would have climbed in and kissed her; gold and leather would drag him down as water spilled across the floor. But, given that he had just tricked her into losing a contest, he doubted that would go down well. Instead he poured a small handful of the scented liquid into his palm, and began to massage her scalp.

“Oh, god.” She sighed. “Who taught you how to do this?”

He chuckled. “That would be telling.”

“And why…?” another weak little moan as she pushed herself into his fingers “Oh. I can’t even think anymore.”

“I wonder if you could climax from this.” He mused.

“Pervert.”

He recoiled a little from the verbal chastisement; he had offered her pleasure, and…oh, he would show her _perverse_. “I was thinking, darling; perhaps I was a little too severe earlier. It was unfair of me to make you lose simply because of your defiance.” The false words tripped off his tongue. “I think I shall call it a stalemate, if you choose to accept a more appropriate punishment for your attitude.”

Her eyes snapped open. “No cages?”

He shrugged. “You can always lose again. And you did make an attempt, however brief, to please me.”

“And what do you mean by _‘punishment’_?” she asked suspiciously.

“It is a chance to redeem yourself. I suggest you take it.” He replied.

“Fuck it. Fine.”

Oh, this would be _fun_.

He pulled a towel from the wall and placed it on the rim of the bath. “Dry yourself, then come to my room.” He left her, chuckling to himself.

Loki sat, and waited for her to deliver herself to him.

When she appeared, her hair was still dripping slightly and the towel draped across her body.

“Take it off.” He smiled as she complied. “Good.”

She really was quite lovely, especially with that little twinge of embarrassment on her lips. And the bruises he had painted on her thighs.

His leather trousers were beginning to feel rather tight. “Kneel.”

And she did. And it was glorious to behold.

Well, he had always wanted to see her naked on her knees. “Now, is this not perfect?” he placed a finger at his lips. “Is this not where you long to be?”

“That helmet still looks stupid.” She muttered.

He vanished before her, appeared crouched by her side, and bent her over his knee. His hand firmly swatted her bare backside, the resulting sound resonating deeply within him. “Attitude.” he whispered in her ear. He stroked the reddening skin, cherishing the wonderful heat he had created.

“Fucking pervert.” She hissed, writhing.

He cast his hand across the other cheek, making her squeal. “Language.” Oh, how he hoped Heimdall was watching. “I bet you enjoy this, you little slut.” he held her closer, pressing her against his confined length.

“Fuck you! Ah!” she cried.

“Language.” He admonished her. “You test me. Over and over you test me. I think this is what you want. The mare too fond of the crop.” He smacked her again.

“What was that for?” she gasped.

“Because I wanted to do it. Because you beg me with your defiance. Because of the way you quiver beneath my palm.” He ran his fingers down, over her sex. “Because of this.” He thrust two fingers inside her warm, wet quim.

She moaned, undulating against him, causing a great amount of friction over his cock.

“Yes, my sweet bitch. Do not forget who holds your leash.” He grinned.

At least, he did grin, until she drove her fist between his legs.

Loki groaned and fell onto his back, the helmet clattering against the floor.

“I told you not to call me a bitch.” She told him, standing above. 

He burst into hysterics, tears streaming from his eyes. He held her by the ankle. “Marry me.” he sighed. 

“There’s not enough alcohol in the world to make that happen.” 

He wiped the tears of laughter from his eyes. “I concede. You win.” The way she glared down at him, it reminded him of…oh, Norns be cursed; it reminded him of Sif. “It seems…” he smiled. “…you have me on my back.”

“Still naked, though.” She said, tugging her ankle free. “Where did you put my dress?”

“Don’t wear that.” He pleaded, staring after her as she walked from him. “It is ruined. I have a dress for you here. In the wardrobe, hanging from the door.”

“Doesn’t look ruined to me.” She replied, pulling on the dress.

Loki circled his arms around him, sitting upon the floor. “Come to bed, love.” He implored.

“No, Loki.” Her reply was short and sharp.

“And why not?” he asked.

“Because I don’t like you.”

“Yes…” he nodded. “Yes, I…” he forced himself to smile “…I had quite forgotten.”

“Goodnight, Loki.” She said as she turned the doorhandle.

“Goodnight, love.”

Loki shivered.

He had felt alone before, rejected, but he had never felt so…cold.  
 

#### Part 3 – Like Hope

Caitlyn was nearly at her door, nearly free, when she stopped. She couldn’t…she didn’t…but…

She turned on the spot, and returned the way she had come. Cold, empty corridors, artificial light, the occasional mindless guard. She pressed upon Loki’s door and let herself into the room.

He wasn’t how she had expected to find him; wearing only thin loose trousers, hunched on the side of his bed. He looked…smaller, somehow. Then he turned and smiled, and his expression wasn’t one of sneering superiority; it was like hope.

She closed the door behind her. “This doesn’t mean anything.”

“Of course.” He replied, smiling softly.

She pulled off her dress, kicked her shoes across the room, and turned off the light. And his hands were on her, his chest pressed against her, his lips daring to brush against hers. She kissed him fiercely, hands gripping his hair. Their tongues met, seeking, needy.

Loki ran his hands down her backside, and he lifted her into the air.

Her legs curled around his torso. She pulled away from the kiss, breathless. “And…don’t you dare wear that fucking helmet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh god, so many 'blue balls' jokes...
> 
> I'm not proud.
> 
> Ok, I'm a little bit proud.
> 
>  
> 
> Let me know what you think/shout at me for fading to black. :)
> 
> x Pinch


	5. When Morning Comes

### Chapter 39 – When Morning Comes

#### Part 1 – Hurt

Loki smiled when he awoke, and drew her closer. Soft, warm skin caressed his body, each touch like a kindness he had long been owed. His legs intertwined with hers, his arms wrapped around her in a night’s embrace, and his face buried deeper into her hair, breathing in the scent.

“Twice in one day.” He whispered against her sleeping form. “Your resolve is slipping.” 

_And she had kissed him._

She began to stir a little; briefly stretching and sighing, then drifting back into sleep.

He lay his lips at the angle of her jaw, and slowly kissed down her neck. How he loved the way she sighed against him. He gently grazed her with his teeth, this time drawing a little moan from his sleeping lover. “Awake, darling. I have need of you.” He teased her, pressing his morning’s desire against her back. “Service your king.” He smirked, running his hand down her stomach. “You may receive such a courtesy in return.”

At the touch of his fingertips, she groaned awake. “Sleep…” she murmured, batting his hand away.

“No, my sweet.” He took her hand and placed it around his length. “This first.”

“Fuck…off…” she pulled away from him, rolled onto her front, and covered her head with a pillow.

He pursued her, lying his chest upon her back, and pulled the pillow from her. He ran the head of his manhood against her quim. “And what, do you propose, I do about this?”

She shrugged. “Stick it in an electrical socket?”

He felt as though he had been slapped. “Listen carefully Caitlyn.” He ordered. “Unless the next word out of your mouth is _‘No’_ , I am going to fuck you until you scream my name.” he brushed her hair aside, whispering into her ear. “Do you want that? Do you want to be fucked by your king?”

“You fucking…Ah!” she gasped as he filled her.

“Does it truly surprise you, every time?” he grinned, grinding her into the mattress.

She thrashed beneath him, her hands finding purchase on his arms and clawing at his skin.

“Is it because of those others?” he asked through hissing breath as her nails scraped him. “Mortal men, who pathetically rutted against you…with no more skill than boars of the forest…” He thrust harder, deeper, drawing out her sweet moans. “Did they even know…what you are? That you were made to be mine?!”

“Surgeon…was better than you.” She replied, voice slightly muffled by the mattress.

“What did you say?” Loki glared, turning her onto her back and kneeling over her.

“Surgeon.” She smirked at him. “Skilled hands.”

He grasped her wrists. “I will cut them off!”

She lay still, then smiled so sweetly. “And you’re not jealous, at all.”

It was all he could do not to smile back.

“You do know you’re ridiculous, right?” she spoke without fear, without a single hint of subservience “I mean, come on. You’ve got…magic powers, and you’re jealous of…” she started to laugh.

He felt his lips curl into a grin, then a laugh escaped him. He released her and ran his hands through his hair. “What do you do to me?”

“I laugh at you, when you deserve it. When you’re being a complete arse. Bet you didn’t get that…” she began to affect his accent “… _‘on Asgard’_.”

Loki shook with laughter. “No, I most certainly did not!” he leant down to kiss her, stopping himself just before he met her lips. “If I had met such a creature as you…”

“You’d what?” she goaded him.

“I’d have made her my queen.” The words had left his lips before he had time to censor himself.

The smile had left her face, instead leaving cool silence.

“I…” it seemed his silver tongue had lost all its power.

“Loki. This is going to end badly. You know that, don’t you?” she asked with concern in her voice.

“Why should it end?” he couldn’t keep the sadness from cracking through.

“You know why.” She sighed, pulling herself upright so she sat facing him. “This…whatever _this_ is…it doesn’t change anything. You’re still who _you are_ , and I…”

He stroked the side of her face. “No. Hush.”

“Loki. I don’t know exactly what it is that you’re planning, but I can guess what it involves…” She didn’t weep, she didn’t shed a single tear, but he swore there was pain in her eyes.

“Stop, love.” He pleaded, kissing her lips. “You needn’t think of such things. Hmm?” he moved slowly closer, trying to regain some of that intimacy he had felt only moments before. “Please.” He had never begged a woman before, not like this.

“Hurting people; it goes against everything I believe in. Everything I am.” She shook her head as he tried to grasp it still. “And no matter what you do, you can’t take that out of me.”

“I do not…” he tried to speak.

“Just don’t lie. For once, don’t lie to me; are you going to hurt him?”

Loki clenched his jaw tight. She was afraid for Stark. That stung him fiercely. 

“Loki. Tell me.”

“I…will do what is necessary.” He watched as her expression turned to horror.

“It’s not necessary! It can’t _be_ necessary!” she shouted in dismay.

“I think that is for me to decide!” he matched her in volume. “I am a God! I am a king! I decide what I must or must not do! It is not for some common mortal bitch to tell me _my place_!” his whole body shook, skin beginning to turn blue, and he turned from her in the hopes she would not see it. “I have matters to attend to. I shall speak with you later.” He spoke in a calmer, detached tone.

“Loki.” Her voice followed him as he went to clothe himself. “Please don’t hurt him.” came the soft request. “If you do…I’ll stop you.”

He blinked the water from his eyes. “Best of luck, darling.” He drew on a false smile. “Such claims rarely find fortune for those who make them.”  
 

#### Part 2 – Something Dark

Caitlyn clutched the sheets to her. “Loki, I…” she went to stand, reached out her hand to touch him.

But he vanished, leaving her alone in the dimly lit room.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered.

Why couldn’t she just lie? Why couldn’t she tell him what he wanted to hear? It would have been better for everyone, and now…oh, god, Tony was going to suffer for it.

_See what you’ve done? There must be something wrong with you. There must be something bad inside you. There must be something dark inside your head._

She brought her hand to her trembling lips, trying to stifle the sound.

_You shouldn’t have come back. That was stupid, and selfish. Now Loki’s hurt. He’s going to make you hurt. He’s going to make everyone hurt._

“I’m so sorry.”  
 

#### Part 3 – Awake, Alive

Noise. Noise and freaking lights, and…ow!

Tony Stark awoke in immense pain. He found his arms, legs and torso shackled to a kind of metal table. There were tubes and wires at random points in his skin, but they didn’t seem to be connected to anything.

Ok, this wasn’t good.

He tried to move, but that was fucking useless. Even if he’d been tied down by string, he’d lost a huge chunk of muscle-bulk in the however-long he’d been out. After the…oh fuck. The fight with Loki. So now he was the prisoner of an insane supervillain with magical powers. _And_ he didn’t have his suit. _And_ he had a fucking itch.

He groaned. “Just beautiful.”

He looked around the room; white, no windows, one door with no handle on his side. This was not a happy room to be in. He waited for a while, for someone to come and do the big dramatic: _‘You’re a prisoner. No escape. Shitty lunch menu.’_ speech, but no-one did. Footsteps passed outside, but none seemed to stop long.

“Hello?” he asked eventually. “Any evil supervillains out there? Hell, I’d take a henchman. I am super bored.”

Nothing.

Whole lotta nothing.

Tony sighed. In retrospect, maybe it hadn’t been such a good idea to go by himself to save the Doc, but what choice did he have? Just let Loki take her and get away with it? No. That might be what the Shield boys thought, but it did not sit well with Tony Stark.

“Should’ve made some robots.” He muttered to himself.

Well, next time.

Time crept on slowly, and Tony tried again to move the restraints; this time he managed to twist himself badly, causing a sharp pain to shoot across his side. “Fuckstick!”

Not his most eloquent curse, but he was under a lot of strain. He tried to turn back, in the process adding another ache to his back. “Mothercunt!”

At that, footsteps gathered around the door, and it slowly swung open.

“Hey, Doc.” Tony smiled.

“Tony! Are you alright?!” she asked, rushing to his side. “Are you hurt?”

She looked exactly the same as before. That was much better than disfigured or dismembered. Most of the dis-es.

“It’s good to see you too!” He replied. He might have hugged her, if not for the fact he was completely immobilised.

“Tony, are you hurt?” she persisted.

“Nah, just when I move.” He attempted to demonstrate the fact, realising as he did so just how stupid it was. “Ouch. That’ll get you.” He hissed through his teeth. “Think I could get something for the pain, Doc?”

“I’m sorry, Tony, you were barely conscious as it was. I can’t give you anything till you stay awake for longer.” She was darting around, doing all kinds of doctor stuff with the machines.

“Fuck.” He replied. “How’s my face? Am I still pretty? Tell me the truth, Doc.” He tried to get her to crack a smile. “GQ _needs_ me.” Just ‘cause you’re a prisoner, doesn’t mean you can’t laugh once in a while.

She started rummaging through her bag, not looking at him. “You look like you fell in a bag of cats, but I’ve stitched up most of it, while you were…out. This might sting a little…” She poured a little liquid onto a cloth and brought it close to his skin.

“A little?” he asked cynically.

“It’s going to sting like hell, but the scars will be small and you’ll still be able to smile. Hold still.” She brought the cloth to his face.

“That’s funny, I don’t feel like smiling right now.” He replied through a grimace.

She hadn’t been lying about the stinging. It was like fucking acid. He sure as hell felt the stitches now.

“Sorry.” She said as she stopped with the cloth. “As for your bones, you’re lucky; you didn’t break much that won’t heal by itself. You lost a lot of blood but I gave you some O negative, and everything else is good. No damage to internal organs. Your liver’s probably in the best state it’s been in years.” She shone a bright light in his eyes. “And your reflexes seem to be fine.”

“Liver! That’s a good one.” He smiled, still not getting much of a reaction. “I’m lucky to be alive, huh?” he asked.

She gently held his wrist, staring at a small clock. “I wish I could say I had anything to do with it, but your body just does not give up.”

Small comforts.

“And…where am I?” he wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer.

“I don’t know. It’s some underground bunker the military uses, or _used_. I think. I didn’t see when we came in…” She leaned over him, to hold his other wrist, and whispered. “You’ve been out a while, Tony. Things are bad. I can’t tell you any more, even if I knew…” She grasped his hand, looking pointedly into his eyes. “Everything’s going to be ok.”

There was a noise at the door. She froze on the spot.

“Why don’t I believe you, doc?” he raised his voice as she turned and walked towards it. “Hey! What’s going on?!”

The door swung open. The tall, dark, demigod made of crazy; Loki stood triumphant and sneering. All leather and metal, like some kind of psycho gimp. “Ah, Mr Stark. I see you’re awake.” He strode over to the Doc, and ran long fingers along her neck. Like he might choke her at any minute. “You have done well, _my dear_.”

Loki might as well have fucked her right in front of him.

She shuddered to his touch, but tried to hide it. “He’s not well, Loki. He…”

“He seems well enough.” His thumb stroked her earlobe. “Go. Now.” He ordered her, and pushed her away.

She looked like she might say something, but didn’t.

Loki watched her wolfishly as she left, then, as the door shut, he turned his attention back. “The great Anthony Stark!” Loki mocked with a small bow. “Your life seems to fly by so capriciously. Not a year ago our roles were reversed, were they not?” That familiar condescending sneer drew across his lips.

“What? Like the first time we caught you, or the second, or the third…? Come on dude, you gotta specify.” Tony tried to shift to a more comfortable position, to show he didn’t give a fuck, but he was pretty sure this thing wasn’t designed for comfort.

Loki shook his head. “You test me, but you find me in an agreeable mood, Mr Stark.” He laid a hand upon Tony’s shoulder, knowing he had the strength to break it if he chose.

“Great, I got a real itch back here. You mind scratching it for me?” Tony grinned back at him.

Loki blinked once. “Why do you do this? Why this blind defiance? You know I could kill you in a moment.” He smiled; bearing his teeth. “Without as much exertion as swatting a fly.” The hand tightened its grip.

Tony shrugged as much as he could do in the circumstances. “Yeah, well, I seem to still be alive, so I guess _that’s_ not happening.”

Loki gave a short laugh, and went to perch on a countertop, which Tony now noticed to be covered in tools not required in the field of medicine. Now Loki smiled wholly, with that sadistic twinge reserved for the truly fucked-up. “Well, you can thank the good Doctor for that.” He stared. “In more ways than one.” He picked up one of the tools; some kind of hook with a serrated edge. He inspected it with a mild interest. “Yes.” He set it down carefully and picked up another; this one a blunt knife. “Caitlyn begged me... _begged_ me to spare your life. She convinced me you would be useful. And I have such ways of extracting usefulness from the _unwilling_.” There was a kind of low growl in his voice. Like he was trying to let Tony know exactly how much of a psycho he was.

_This is the price of your life._

“Yeah, you’re a real catch. She’s a lucky girl.” Tony said with all of his snark-casm. “Every happiness to you two crazy kids.”

Loki picked up a third tool, a spiked ball on a rotating base. He spun it slowly with his finger. “Now. I have seen some of these in my time, but I confess I have no idea what the purpose of this is…” He spun it again.

“Yeah?” Tony asked. “Why don’t you shove it up your ass, you kooky son of a bitch…”

“Do you _want_ me to hurt you?” Loki asked, appearing puzzled. It was a fucking mask. “Do you have some enduring wish to suffer? Is that it?” He jumped down from the counter, and slowly stepped closer, letting the light glint off the torture tools and onto Tony’s face.

Tony Stark wasn’t about to let that phase him. “Listen, Scissorhands: I’ve been held at gunpoint by scarier guys than you. Real terrorist types; big guns, bigger attitudes, you know the kind: haven’t washed since the Arab spring.” Tony rolled his eyes. “What I’m trying to say is; you’re not all that. I mean, sure, you’ve got crazy coming out of your ears, but come on! Leather suits? Those speeches, what, do they come out of the sixteenth century?”

Loki turned away from him.

Tony didn’t have the self-preservation to stop. “Granted, I can’t fault you on that ol’ shiny hat; I mean, I always wanted antlers to come back into fashion…” he winced as Loki suddenly drove the serrated metal spike into his leg. “Sorry. Didn’t know you were so sensitive.” Tony gasped through pained breath.

“You will help me, Anthony Stark.” Loki sneered, twisting the metal shard.

Tony yelled out in pain.

“You will build more of those weapons you so cleverly used against me.” Loki’s face warped into such grotesque snarls. “I will have your obedience!” he ripped out the metal, taking with it a spray of blood.

Tony felt a sick from the pain; sharp, shooting, biting. He tried to stop his leg from tensing: every movement let more blood course out.

That snarl quickly morphed into a plain smile. “It’s been so much fun talking with you, Anthony. I hope we’ll speak again.”

Tony tried not to make a sound, not to cry from the lingering pain. Not when Loki could still hear him. He screwed his eyes tightly shut and tried to focus on something, anything else.

“You may close the wound, but don’t relieve his pain.” Loki spoke loud enough to be overheard. He waited to be seen before kissing the Doc. “See you tonight.” he told her, all the while watching Tony.

He didn’t do subtle, apparently.

She walked away from him without a word, pulling on a pair of plastic gloves. In silence she opened a small box, and withdrew a needle and several other tools. “I’m going to need to rinse this out. It might sting.” She visibly lightened as the door closed. She took a pair of scissors and cut the fabric around his leg wound.

“Doc.”

“Tony, please, I need to concentrate doing this. It’s a real fucking mess.” She swore through tightened lips. “And you might want to know that there are cameras in here, so everything you say will be heard by someone you don’t want to hear it. Just like everywhere else down here…”

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine. I just need you to be quiet for the next bit, ok?” she said, washing the wound with that small bottle that stung like a bitch. “Sorry. This isn’t going to be nice.” She paced through it, as Tony took sharp intakes of breath. It looked like she was hurting nearly as much as he was. Eventually she stopped. “There. It’s done. I’ll just… get a dressing.”

“You think I’m going to need a dressing? What, am I going rock climbing?” he smiled.

“Very funny, Tony.” She replied, opening a small green package.

“Doc.” He began. “Crazy horse said you had something to do with my being alive and all…what…”

“It was nothing.” She stated calmly while pressing the plaster down. “Nothing I wouldn’t have done for anyone else in the same position. Alright?”

He wanted to ask more, but then again, he didn’t really want to know. “So, I guess you have the dubious honour of having saved my life, what, twice now?”

“When all this is over you can buy me a beer.” She offered. She closed the bag and hung it over her shoulder.

“You going again, Doc?” he tried not to sound worried.

“I have to, or I can’t come back.” She stated coolly, and an earnestness passed between the two of them. “It’s going to be ok, Tony.” She gave a smile; warm and kind. But there was fear behind it.

“Yeah, I know that.” He replied. “You take care. I’ll be fine.”

God, he hoped he was a better liar than she was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry!
> 
>  
> 
> That wasn't as full of happy feels as the last chapter.
> 
> I promise, it won't all be this gloomy.
> 
> There's even some funny bits coming up (written, but not complete yet).
> 
>  
> 
> x Pinch


	6. Where I Need to Be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the huge delay.
> 
> Currently abroad, in a country without regular power.
> 
> Chapter contains semi-spoilers for Iron-Man 3 (this fic is progressing into its own AU, so won't have exactly the same story-line).
> 
> Enjoy!

### Chapter 40 - Where I Need to Be

#### Part 1 - Business

Aldrich Killian pulled the creases from his suit jacket, trying not to let his irritation show. He folded one leg across the other, leaning back a little in the deliberately uncomfortable metal chair. He didn't like to be kept waiting. Hell, he was usually the one playing these little power-games; make the other guy feel uncomfortable, unimportant, then take him for all he's worth. But for the new King of Europe, he made an exception. Especially as Loki had a reputation for stabbing people he didn't like. "Could you at least wear a fucking tie, Savin?"

Savin chewed loudly on his gum. "Don't own one, boss."

"I'm trying to run a business here. When you look bad, it makes me look bad." 

Savin rolled his head back, sighing. "I'll get one, okay?"

"See that you do." Killian snapped.

He had about five seconds of silence before Savin opened his mouth again. "Didn't want to meet Trevor, huh?"

" _King_ Loki wants the organ grinder, not the monkey." Killian made sure to emphasise the King part, firstly in case he was listening, secondly in case Savin hadn't been.

"That's for the best, huh?!" Savin laughed. "Imagine Trevor and His Highness talking shop!"

Killian smirked. He was about to reply, when he heard voices echoing down the corridor.

_"What the hell was that?!"_ a woman shouted. _"Don't you have any concept of human rights? The Geneva convention?!"_

_"Mortal laws apply to mortals."_ Loki's unmistakable cold tone replied.

_"No. Don't go spouting all that superior-being shit. This is about you not having a single scrap of empathy...!"_

_"I am superior, in every conceivable way!"_ he shouted. _"You know that well!"_

Killian turned to his associate. "Are they fucking?" he asked under his breath.

Savin nodded knowingly.

"So you're above all human morality?" the woman's voice was lower now, but closer.

"Yes. I am." Loki hissed. He stepped into view; in what must have been combat armour, built for intimidation, black leather crossed over with a little green and gold.

"He's taller in person." Savin commented.

The woman caught up and stood in front of Loki.

He towered over her, glaring down, but she looked him straight in the eye. "Stand aside." he ordered.

"I'm sorry. I don't think my human brain can quite comprehend that. Maybe you should say it with a knife." she replied, moving even closer.

"Do not tempt me, woman!" he growled.

"Why not? You might as well. I mean, we're all the same to you, right? All pathetic little humans? What does it matter if there's one less?"

Well, someone had a death-wish.

"Fewer." Loki corrected.

"Oh, it's good to know there are _some_ of our mortal laws you lower yourself to follow." She didn't flinch, even when he grasped her by the throat, his thumb pressing her chin upwards.

"Take care how you speak to me." Loki looked like he was either about to snap her neck or fuck her, and couldn't quite decide which.

Savin cleared his throat loudly, drawing their attention.

"Gentlemen." Loki spoke, still gripping the woman. "I have business in Russia. I shall be with you shortly." He nodded to them, then all his focus returned to her. "We shall discuss this later." he hissed.

With that, Loki vanished before them.

The woman gave an exasperated shout, then stormed away.

And that...that was very strange.

"Boss?" Savin asked.

"Shut up, Savin. I'm trying to think." Killian snapped.

"You thinking she must be something fucking special; talking back like that to the king?" Savin chewed. "That's gotta mean something, right?"

"Yes, but it sounds so much smarter when I say it." And why hadn't Loki just controlled her mind, like he had already done with almost everyone else there? If Killian could do that, he'd never fucking stop.

Savin leaned in, grinning, and no doubt about to say something crass, when Loki's reappearance stopped him. He jumped to his feet. "Woah! That was fucking fast!"

Loki eyed him with distain.

Killian groaned inwardly, also rising from his chair. "Please, forgive my associate. He's an idiot, but he's very useful to me. King Loki; Aldrich Killian, Advanced Idea Mechanics. This is Mr Savin: the working product."

Savin grinned.

"Is that so?" Loki replied. Without warning he drew a knife and threw it for Savin's head.

Savin dodged aside, the knife embedding deep into his palm. He pulled it out, his wound glowing as the extremis-fuelled cells closed the gap in his hand. He handed the knife back to Loki.

"Impressive." The god commented.

"Thank you, Sir. I'm impressed by you too, Sir." Savin replied.

Killian held back the urge to hit him. "Savin. Just. Stop. Talking."

"It is quite alright." Loki's lips twitched into a small smile. "And you accept your place, do you not, mortal?"

"Sir, I'm ready to accept anything, long as it pays." Savin stood in his army posture, hands folded behind his back.

Loki nodded, smiling to himself. "Well, Mr Killian, it seems we have business to discuss."

Killian looked to Savin. "Go find some corner to sit in. Keep out of the way."

"You got it, boss." Savin nodded, and followed the way the woman had gone.

He might be an idiot, but he was damn useful some times.

 

#### Part 2 - The Jealous Type

Caitlyn opened a pristine copy of "The Prince" and deliberately broke the spine. She knew that petty vengeance was unlikely to change anything, but it did make her feel slightly better.

She couldn't stomach just how evil Loki could be. How little it fazed him to torture another human being...and there it was: because he wasn't human. Not really. Not in any way that mattered. Sure, he could do jealousy, lust, rage, but not anything good or kind. Not love. When he said 'love' he mocked its name. He killed 'love' and wore its skin, and pretended to himself that it was enough.

She took another book from his shelves: 'The Portrait of Dorian Grey'. She hated that book. A rough crack left the spine draped limply in two.

She started a little when a figure appeared in the corner of her vision.

"Knock knock." he said with a grin. "Hi. I'm Eric Savin. You can call me Savin." he extended his hand, his jaw slowly lolled as he chewed.

"Well, Savin, if you want to keep your hand, I suggest you find someone else to talk to." She replaced the book and drew another.

"Woah! Don't like company, huh?!" he laughed. "Alright!"

"I'm sorry..." she replied, searching along the shelves "...it's not that. I actually wouldn't mind...it's just Loki..."

"Ah. I get it." he smiled "Jealous type, huh?"

"You have no idea." she sighed.

"So, you lookin' for something in particular?" he indicated to the shelves.

"Not really. Just venting my frustration."

"Why? Machiavelli done something to piss you off?"

She laughed. After all this time it was nice to talk to another human being. One who wasn't under duress, anyway.

"I'm Caitlyn. Doctor Caitlyn Black." She smiled and shook his hand.

"Nice to meet ya, Doc." he grinned, shaking her hand once, warmly. "Wanna see something cool?" He pulled a pen from his pocket. "You'll get a kick outta this."

She nearly screamed when he stabbed it right through the centre of his palm, the tip protruding between bones and skin.

Then he slowly slid the bloody pen back out. As he did so, the torn wound edges began to glow a brilliant orange, like licks of flame, and grew until the whole wound filled and skin closed. The glow subsided.

"Holy fuck." she gasped.

"Yeah." he beamed back at her, wiping the pen clean on his jacket.

"That's amazing! How did you...?!"

"Sorry. Trade secret." he chewed. "I'm working product."

"Product? You mean, someone did this to you?" her mind was reeling. Surely this sort of thing was impossible...

Then again, impossible was happening with increasing frequency nowadays.

"Yeah, but it's a bitch to shave." he grinned. "Lost six razors. Heat makes 'em melt right up."

She couldn't help but stare. There wasn't a scar. Not even a pin-prick. How could someone make cells regenerate like that? And so fast! That wasn't even a temporary fibrin network, it was full multicellular regeneration! If that could work on neurons, the possibilities...

"Hey Doc? Hello?" He waved in-front of her face.

"Sorry. I was miles away."

"I was just asking what you did to end up down here."

"I..." she shuddered, feeling Loki's fingers dripping down her neck.

"You are not to talk to her. You are not to look at her. You are not to think of her. Do you understand?" Loki said icily, grasping her tightly to him.

"Sorry, Sir. Just being friendly." Savin replied, hands raised.

"For fuck's sake, Loki." Caitlyn pulled from his hold, and went to leave.

Loki appeared before her in an instant. "Do not _dare_ walk away from me!"

"Then don't be so repulsive." She tried to move past him, but he followed her every step.

He was too close. She could almost feel the chill of his skin. Her mind was a mess of hate and lust.

_No, not again. Not this time._

She stared at him, waiting for him to move. At last, when he didn't, she returned to the bookshelf, picked a volume at random, and sat in silence.

"What? No more arguments? No more _fire_?" he hissed.

She didn't reply.

"And now you treat me as a child?" he began to pace the room. "You _foolish bitch_ , I am not so easily undone!" He was trying to get a reaction.

She turned the page.

"You _stupid whore_! I will not be swayed by this."

That was new. He normally saved that one for the bedroom.

Loki tore the book from her and cast it across the room. He placed his hands on the arms of her chair, boxing her in, glaring at her.

"Do you want me to give you some privacy, Sir?" Savin asked loudly.

"Do." Loki ordered.

She just returned a stare, blankly.

"You cannot do this to me!" he bellowed. "I am your God! If not God, then King! If not King, then..." he swallowed his rage. "...then...something."

"I can't love someone like you." she said, watching him break.

"Then do not, but say you do." his illusions shimmered, and she saw him dishevelled "Close your eyes, and kiss me, and tell me that you love me. _Give me that._ " his voice cracked.

"It's not real."

"It is something." his eyes were drawn wide, begging, hoping. "It is enough."

"No, it's not. Not for me, and certainly not for you." she placed her hands on his whitened knuckles. "Let him go."

Loki's expression hardened, and his illusion returned. "I will let him go...only when his bones are broken into a thousand shards, and the blood has drained from his corpse!" he spat. "And I will make you watch every second of it, while you beg me to silence your mind from the horrors before you!" he pulled his hands away from hers, and went to the door. "You!" he barked "Make use of yourself, mortal; If she tries to leave, _beat_ her."

"Sir." Savin nodded. 

Loki gave another stormy glare, then vanished.

"Between you and me, mam..." Savin spoke, glancing around "...don't make me."

"Don't worry. I won't." she replied.

Plus Loki would never let it happen, not really. He'd probably step in at the last minute and snap the man's neck. Play the hero.

He was like a fucking child. He had his little tantrums, and made his threats, and then when everything fell apart he still smiled and believed everything would work out for him; that he would just be forgiven. He was...

Shit.

No.

It couldn't be.

"Can I borrow that pen, Savin?" she asked.

"Sure." he nodded.

She grabbed one of the duller volumes from the shelves, and made a quick calculation; assuming a life expectancy relative to 78...shit. He was a fucking teenager. Nearly twenty in relative terms. "Oh, god..." she groaned. She was fucking an adolescent demi-god of mischief.

Life had hit a new low.

 

It was nearly four hours before Loki returned, but when he did he was giggling like a madman. He burst into the library, followed by the unpleasant man who smiled like he had a tongue up his backside.

"Darling, you are strong-willed!" Loki laughed.

Caitlyn glanced up from 'The Count of Monte Cristo'. "Cocaine? Seriously?"

Loki stared. "How did you know?!"

"King..." the man indicated to his nose.

Loki brushed the chalky powder from his face. "Ah, yes."

"That, and your eyes look like fucking saucers." Caitlyn commented, returning to the book. She was about to turn the page, when Loki took it from her. "Hey!"

"You know how I feel about that kind of _language_." He said darkly.

"And you know how I feel about everything else. Sort that out, and we'll talk about language. Until then, I don't give a flying fuck."

Savin's brow raised, and he glanced to the other man, who just grinned.

"I see it." the man smiled at her in a way that made her want to shower in bleach "Fiery kinda thing going on there."

Loki smirked. "Mr Killian..." he briefly glanced to the man "...thinks I should kill you."

"Maybe you should." she shrugged.

"Did I not say that would be exactly her response?!" Loki laughed loudly. "I know you too well, darling!" he stroked her cheek, fingers sliding into her hair. "Come, sing me something."

"What? Why?" Caitlyn tried to pull apart from him.

"Because I want you to!" he smiled.

"And you're fucking high." she gave a pained smile in reply. "Thanks for that, Iago."

Loki giggled.

"Parrot?" Savin asked, chewing his fifth stick of gum.

"Read a fucking book, Savin!" Mr Killian sneered.

"Don't you have evil plans to discuss?" she sighed. "Somewhere that's not here?"

Loki leaned into her, making her breath catch. "You will come to me, Caitlyn. Just as you have before." his body pressed against hers. "Just as always." He grinned broadly. 

Would he actually fuck her in front of those men? Of course he would.

Savin was examining the ceiling, while Mr Killian was looking far too comfortable.

"Do you have any idea how many would kill to be in your position, my dear?" Loki whispered into her ear. "To worship their god as you do? To feel sacred seed?"

"You're disgusting." she managed to shift enough to push him off to the side.

He fell onto the floor, crying with laughter. "Such strong protestations, my lady!"

She shoved past Savin and Mr Killian. "I'm going to bed. Don't follow me."

"You will come to me, my sweet!" Loki called after her. "Willingly, and on your knees!"

 

#### Part 3 - Where I Need to Be

Loki slowly opened his eyes. He groaned. It felt like bilgesnipe had run rampant through his head.

"Good morning, _'supreme ruler'_." Caitlyn said over the brim of her book. "Feeling a little delicate, are we?"

He tried to speak, but his tongue seemed to be stuck in place. He managed another weak sound, rolling onto his back within his bed. At some point he must have undressed, but had no recollection.

" _'They should all kneel. Why won't they kneel?'_ " she spoke with the smallest of smirks.

He cleared his throat, drawing in some saliva. "I fear...I may have embarrassed myself."

"You? No..." she turned the page " _'I can't feel my face. I am not going to be sick.'_ and then you tried to teleport and smacked into the wall. So much blood..."

"You may cease any time." he groaned, rubbing his throbbing head.

"Oh, but we're just getting started..." she handed him a heavy package of papers. "What, you don't remember? I'm crushed. That was between the cocaine and sixteen bottles of whiskey. You called it _'the greatest work ever written in such a pathetic realm'_." she returned to the chair beside his bed. " _'Lips of rose; sweet nectar glistening at bloom. How I shall drink you.'_ " she quoted, he assumed. "You wanted it kept safe, _'on pain of torture'_. Fantastic priorities."

"Ah." Loki decided not to attempt to read his work. He smiled to himself. "You are here.".

"Oh, how could I refuse, when your dagger was so thirsty? As you said five or six times, because it was so amusing. That and: _'Why won't they kneel?'_ " she punctuated every word with sarcasm. "Oh, and: _'a woman's place is around my cock'_." 

"Anything else?" he sighed. If only he had been on Asgard; there he had potions to deal with this kind of thing.

"So much." she nodded. "I think I might save some of it for later. But you did go into explicit detail regarding one of your sexual fantasies. Do you want to guess which one?"

He was afraid to attempt it. "Why did you stay?"

"Because you threatened to start a war with a country that doesn't exist." she set the book aside. "And made it clear you had no qualms about waking me with _'the King's privilege'_ if I fell asleep."

Fragments were beginning to settle into place. He remembered her sweet voice, calling out from darkness, bringing him back...

"And when I wouldn't get into bed with you, you demanded I..."

"...you told me a story, from your childhood." he cut into her speech. 

But, damn it all if he couldn't remember it.

"Well. As it's now morning, I'm going to leave." she deliberately slammed the book on his bedside table, the sound grating his brain. "Try not to tackle any walls."

"Surely..." he began, faltering "...that is; if you should desire it..." he spoke with quickening pace as she reached the door. "...might you rest here a moment?"

She turned the handle.

"Nothing else, only sleep." He tried to find some way to convince her, some perfect combination of words. "I can hardly perform any great mischief on Midgard from between my bedsheets."

"We both know where I'm going, Loki; where I need to be." she said as she left.

He wanted to go to her, but his head throbbed, and his legs refused to carry him. Instead he sank back down into his bed, summoning an illusion beside him.

She leant over him. His love, his siren; resplendent in flowing white, with a circlet of diamonds and heavy pearls that seemed to drip down her hair. She laughed silently, eyes sparkling like clear nights beyond the bifrost. He went to touch her smiling skin...

"You are not her." he sighed, letting the image fade to dust.


	7. The Realm of Forgotten Things

### Chapter 41 - The Realm of Forgotten Things

#### Part 1 - The Faded Memory

Once Loki regained his strength, he felt himself possessed by a perseverance; he would find the missing memory.

The process itself turned out to be both long and arduous; not because of the magic involved, that being the least of it; it was the wading through of the previous eight and a half hours... Even in the realm of reflection this took considerable time.

He followed his memory's shadow as it, in turn, followed her. _'You do not sleep without me!'_ it called to her in joyous tones. _'I know you don't, Caitlyn. I have watched you on your restless nights. You lie still, and wait for sleep to come, but it never does! Not since me. You are bound to me now. You need me. I am part of you. I am the cancer that gnaws deep into your flesh!'_ Loki's memory laughed.

He didn't realise he could smile like that; a horrible, sickening grin. The smile of an evil Jotun from a children's story book; the one who picked his teeth with the bones of little Aesir girls.

_'Please. You're a lot of things, but you're not fucking cancer.'_ she replied.

_'What am I then?! Call it by name!'_ his memory self persisted.

_'Drunk?'_ she offered _'High and drunk? A high, drunk, condescending prick? You're all those things, but you're not fucking cancer. I'm scared of cancer.'_

_'And not of me?'_ the shadow Loki asked. _'You do not fear a God? The supreme ruler of this realm?'_ He waited a few moments before appearing before her, or attempting to. The heavy thud next-door suggested otherwise.

Loki grimaced. Not his finest moment. He traced his path forwards, letting time skip a little.

Caitlyn leant over his memory's form, as it lay bleeding. _'Loki? Can you see me? How many fingers am I holding up?'_

His shadow groaned, blood spraying from his mouth and nostrils.

She sighed, wiping his face.

There was something comforting in that little kindness. And her voice too, as she hummed sweetly, voice fading...

Something strange was closing in now. He could feel it; unlike magic he had ever felt before, magic that exudes and calls out its nature. This was magic that drained, like the dark void.

A thick white fog descended upon the memory, clouding Loki's sight. Voices grew more distant. He glanced around him, but the fog rolled in on all sides. He tried to flee, and found himself rooted to the spot; unable, even, to return to his body.

"Cheating..." A woman's voice echoed gaily around him. "Naughty."

 

#### Part 2 - Psycho

"Hey Doc." Tony smiled from his prison bed. "No tall, dark and crazy today?"

"I...I don't know." she replied "How are you? No-one's been hurting you, have they?"

"The spongebath could've gone smoother, but otherwise no complaints." he grinned to her "You should try it some time."

She drew in a slow breath, not really listening. "Loki. He's...hungover, I guess. I'm sorry Tony, I..." she looked like she was trying to swallow something thick. "It's my fault...I...I should have done things differently. You shouldn't be here."

"Doc, don't..."

"He'll...the things he does; it's partly because of...me." she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "I swear to you, Tony: I'll make this right, whatever it takes."

_Doc, nothing would make me more pissed off than if you did something stupid to save my dumb ass._ That was what he wanted to say, what he should say, but there was something...a creeping fear...and the thought of Pep...He couldn't leave Pep. Not alone. Not in a world where the big bad wolf was on the loose.

But then there was the other thing; the crawling, itchy thoughts. Thoughts of Loki, taking his payment for the life of Tony Stark. That did not sit well. He tried not to indulge them, keeping them at bay as long as he could with memories, plans, snarky comments, but they still occupied a dark corner of his mind. It seemed like every day that dark corner grew, and the light dimmed.

You're some hero, Tony Stark. Iron Man, without the 'Iron'. Probably without the 'Man' too.

He tugged in futility against his restraints. When she stared he offered a shrug. "Gotta keep trying."

She lowered her voice. "There was someone here the other day. Someone who wasn't...you know." She peeled back the dressings on his wounds. "He said Loki's got control of most of Europe, he's...are you allergic to antibiotics, Tony?"

"Huh? Uh, no. Not that I know of." Tony shook his head. So he really did get his own little throne. Fuck.

She went to her bag and drew something up. "I'd really rather you have tablets, but this is all I have. Sorry."

"Don't sweat it, Doc." he flinched as she pushed the drug into his arm; a little stingy. "But you were saying..."

"Oh, yes. I..." she glanced to the corners of the ceiling "I don't know how much else I can say, except...shit." she cursed quietly as footsteps approached the door.

"Him?" Tony asked.

"No. That's not how he sounds when he walks." she replied, drawing a scalpel from its packaging and holding it behind her back.

_That's not really a comforting thing to know._

The door crept slowly open, revealing a grinning man in an expensive white suit. "Tony Stark." he sneered.

"Snakehips?" Tony replied.

Doc wasn't smiling; she was afraid of this guy. She moved faster than him, standing defensively between the two of them.

"Caitlyn, wasn't it?" the man advanced. "Maybe we got off to a bad start."

"It's Doctor Black, Mister Killian." she said coolly, the knife clutched in her hand. "And I think we're about as friendly as we're ever going to be."

"Is this because I suggested he kill you? Because I was only being pragmatic." he stood uncomfortably close to her, looking at Tony like he was a museum exhibit. "You've gotta be ready to dispose of anyone who can hurt you. That's just good business." he turned his gaze to her "It would be a shame, though. I can think of a few things you'd be good for first."

"Mister Killian." she replied "I assure you; you try it, and I will castrate you." she brought the knife between them. "Please, leave."

The smile turned to a snarl. "You think you're tough, huh? Empowered little bitch has a knife. Think that makes you something? No. You're nothing. You're just some tired little fuck-toy, getting more worn out every day, and soon you'll be too broken to keep."

"Hey, asshole." Tony spat. "That's my friend you're talking to. Shut up or put up."

The two men stared each-other down, or in Tony's case, up. What the fuck did he think he was gonna do from the metal bed? Frown him to death?

"Mister Killian." She placed her hand on his shoulder. "As you so succinctly put it; I am a 'fuck-toy', of a god. The only one, in fact." she smiled "What do you think that means? Does it mean it's a good idea to threaten me? Do you think that would end well for you?"

"There are plenty more self-righteous bitches like you." he laughed at her. "You're not fucking special!"

She stood firm. "Maybe you're right." she shrugged "Maybe I'm not. Maybe I'm just some passing diversion that he'll get over. But you, Mr Killian, you'd better be _really fucking sure_."

His laugh had drained away, replaced by a kind of low hissing. After a long moment, the snake-oil smile returned. "You play some hard ball! Doesn't she, Tony?"

"Dude, I don't know you." Tony replied, wishing more than ever that he could at least get to eye-level with the son-of-a-bitch.

"Hey, what does Loki's dick taste like?" the man ran his tongue against the inside of his cheek.

"Funny." Doc didn't give the slap the guy deserved. "I was about to ask you the same question."

"Oh-ho!" the man laughed "You think that insults me? You think I wouldn't? Hell, I'd even smile all nice and pretty too! And I'd know better than to bite the hand that fucking feeds."

So Doc was fighting back. That felt good. Not great, but good.

"Well, Mr Killian, I suppose that's the difference between you and I: _I'm not a whore_." she indicated to the door. "Now please, leave, before I have to call the mindless gun squad."

He glared for a moment, tensed up and silent, then left with the calm composure of a serial killer, fastening the buttons of his suit jacket as he went. "See you later."

"Psycho." Tony muttered.

Doc turned, trembling. "You're right, Tony. He is a psycho."

 

#### Part 3 - A Gift

Loki tried for several moments to make his escape, running through every spell he knew, and a few he invented. Nothing worked. The fog persisted.

"By what right do you keep me here?!" he yelled, not eliciting any response "Keep me from my own memories?!"

"Oh, but they're not yours, are they?" the woman's voice returned, lilting pleasantly "They were, but then you lost them. And now they're not."

He grew extremely irritated with the faceless woman. "I am Loki...!" he began.

"...of Jotunheim." she cooed. "But you lost that too." The voice was now on all sides at once. "You seem to keep losing things."

"I am Loki! I am King! I am wielder of more powerful magics than you can imagine, and once I escape this place I will make these facts known to you, and all who dare stand in my way!" he spat his curse, feeling his magic feebly wither amongst the tendrils of fog. "Speak your name, creature, if you would have your grave marked!"

The woman laughed; an almost childish giggle. "You mistake me, Loki of Jotunheim; I give you blindness that you might see more clearly; I give you silence that you might hear truth. Snap! Can you hear it? Snap!"

The creature was clearly mad, lost somewhere in this realm of fog.

"I am a friend." she told him. "Friends bring gifts."

"I need no gifts, nor friends." he hissed.

"Sour face at the birthday party..." she teased "...Everyone wants a gift. Everyone needs a friend. Even little monsters."

He was about to curse again, but changed his mind. Perhaps another tactic would prove fruitful. "And who befriends a monster like Loki?"

"That's better." the voice replied. "But cheating. You can't have all the presents at once. Too much cake made the Jotun sick..."

"If you are my friend..." he began "...then you should give me what I ask."

"Spoilt Loki of Jotunheim." she replied. "Gifts are what you need, not what you ask. Asking gets you trouble."

And then the image of Caitlyn appeared through the fog. _'It's not real.'_ she whispered, face contorted into empathetic sadness.

_'It's not real.'_

 

#### Part 4 - The Opportunity

Savin smiled at the blank faces he passed, giving some a little salute. "Morning. How you doing?" He unwrapped a stick of gum and started to chew.

As always, he got no response.

"Boo!" he laughed. He threw a punch, stopping just before he made contact with the unflinching face. "You're fucking good, I'll give you that!"

"Savin, what the fuck are you doing?" his boss asked, in that slow sighing way that let him know his disappointment.

"Don't even fucking blink!" he grinned, throwing another punch "See?"

"Of course they don't fucking blink. Their brains are fried, you fucking moron." Killian struck him on the back of the head. "And get a fucking tie."

"This is a tie." Savin chewed.

"It's got fucking baby birds on it."

Savin glanced down, held the tie out in front of him. "I like it. It's the guy who thought he saw a pussy-cat." he looked to his boss's glaring face. "You don't like it?"

"No. I don't fucking like it!" he hissed, grasping Savin by the throat. Slowly, Killian's skin began to glow a bright orange, and fabric started sizzling and smoking. By the time he tore his hand away, the whole thing had gone up in flames.

Savin reeled backwards, patting out the rest of the fire. His leather jacket was singed. "I liked this jacket..." he complained.

"You can buy a new one." Killian spat.

Savin sighed. "Bad mood today, Boss?"

"Fucking bitch." he growled, balling his hands into fists.

"Who, the Doc?" he asked "She seems nice."

"She's a fucking liability. Some straight-laced self-righteous florence-fucking-nightingale, who's going to screw everything up first chance she gets."

Savin shrugged. "But what are you gonna do? I mean, the guy's in love with her, so..."

"What did you just say?" Killian turned briskly.

"What? That he's in love with her?" he wedged the gum between his back teeth "Thought it was pretty obvious, boss."

"Not to me." he replied.

"Yeah." Savin shifted in place, glancing down the corridor. "I mean, you can see it, can't you? Way he looks at her, way he hangs around..."

"So?"

"So here's this guy, this king; badass of the galaxy; doesn't give a fuck, except about where she is, who she talks to..."

"And?" Killain asked, genuinely puzzled "He's jealous, so what?"

"Guy like him doesn't need to be jealous, does he?" Savin replied. "He wants someone to do what he says, he can make them fucking do it. He wants a person locked away, you can bet your ass they're not getting out. Guy says jump, then pushes them off the fucking bridge." another glance over his shoulder "But he argues with her. He lets her talk back; doesn't like it, but lets her. Says she'll come to him, then follows her 'round."

He watched the words run through Killian's head, not quite connecting. Not in the way they connected in normal people. "Is it serious?" he said, brow furrowed.

"Pretty fucking serious, I'd say. For a guy like that to show weakness..." Savin was very suddenly aware of the silence around him. "Smitten kitten. Fucking dangerous situation."

"...Shit." Killian spoke slowly, his plotting brain ticking away. "Can you fix it?"

"I can try, boss, but I don't know I've got the.." he cleared his throat "...tools for the job. But I think that might be a mistake..." he said cautiously, waiting for permission to continue. Normally that kind of statement got him slapped. Nothing. "...What's the Japanese thing? Crisis is an opportunity?"

 

#### Part 5 - Important

_'It's not real.'_ The words fell from her lips, and each time they broke his heart.

Over and over she repeated, until the whispers became deafening.

"Sad little monster." the woman's voice chorused. "Lonely little monster."

_'It's not real.'_

"Stop." he commanded. "Stop! By the Nine, Stop!"

_'It's not real.'_

"Stop? Why stop?" the woman replied. "King of illusions, Prince of lies...why _stop_?"

_'It's not real.'_ She pitied him. The woman he loved pitied his foolish heart.

"At peace with lies, Loki of Jotunheim...maker of mischief..."

"Stop!" tears drew across his lids. It was no longer a realm of the mind only; he felt with clarity. "Please. I beg you."

"Kings do not beg." the woman answered. "They suffer. Kings always _suffer_."

_'It's not real.'_

_Then let me not be king._

_Snap._

He almost didn't hear it. In time he consigned it to a trick of the mind. That little snap. Like a thread breaking.

_'It's not real.'_

"Why?" he asked softly. "Why do you torment me, lost creature?"

_'It's not real.'_

The woman's voice softly drifted on a stirring breeze. "Because." the fog began to lap away. "Because it's hard. Because it hurts. Because that is important." her voice faded with the fog.

And then he saw Caitlyn, above him. Her hand caressed his face, pulling his eyelids open. "Loki? Loki, can you hear me?"

He had returned to his body, back within his bed. And she was there.

"What the fuck happened to you?" she sighed. "I thought you had fucking head trauma or something. Next time you plan to go comatose for a few hours, could you warn me first? Fuck's sake." she shook her head. "Fucking histrionic."

He smiled.

"You know what? You should have fucking brain damage."

"I apologise. I shall try harder next time." he replied.

"And why are you so happy? You know what? No. I don't want to know." she started a little when he took hold of her arm.

"You are wrong." he told her, gently stroking her skin. "I thought you ought to know."

"Yeah." she brushed his hand away. "Sleep it off, supreme ruler."

He smiled. He lay back on the bed, this time consigned to rest. The mysterious woman's voice cooed in his head, giving fuel to his happiness.

Caitlyn was wrong.

_Because it's hard._

_Because it hurts._

_Because that is important._

A laugh fought its way out of him.

"You have my thanks, friend." he whispered.

_Because if it's hard, and it hurts, then it is real. And that is so important._

 

In a place far distant to the nine realms, a thread quietly snapped.


	8. Bad Business

### Chapter 42 – Bad Business

#### Part 1 – All Except One

All of Asgard slept silently. All except one. Heimdall, the gatekeeper, had long since forgone sleep. Although he no longer had a gate to keep, he still kept watch over the realms. Loki’s works on Midgard occupied the majority of his visions; the would-be king seen through the eyes of the kneeling masses, the crawling subordinates, the victims, and the woman. If anything, it was the latter that troubled him the most. The dark prince had never seemed so volatile before; so like a man going mad…

_Snap._

Heimdall jolted. Never had he heard such a fleeting sound so clearly, not in all of his seasons. It seemed that before and after, there was nothing; only that sound, in that moment.

And he knew that somehow, the unconscious trickster had caused it.

He left his post, walking to the nearest dozing guard. He shook him gently.

“Heimdall?! Shall I sound the alarm?” the man started awake.

“No.” he replied calmly. “But I need you to summon the Queen.”

“Summon the Queen?” the guard asked, then nodded, dashing off into the castle. “Summon the Queen.”

He returned to his post on the shattered bifrost, and gazed out into the stars. It seemed as though nothing had changed. If he knew no better, he would have thought that to be the case. But now the time came to question subtle signs and half-forgotten occurrences. He knew only too well the cost of complacent thoughts.

He saw Frigga’s arrival before he turned around. “My Queen.” He bowed his head.

“Heimdall? What is it?” she asked, breathless. Her simple evening robe flowed behind her, her golden hair hung loose about her face.

“My Queen, I must ask you something.” He nodded for the guard to leave. “About the spell you cast.”

“Oh, Norns, what is it? What have you seen?!” she shook, eyes wide. “Was it him?!”

“My Queen, you must not distress yourself.”

“Heimdall!” she shouted. “Just tell me!” Fury overtook fear, and she looked every part the warrior queen she had been.

“I have seen nothing, my Queen. But it is what I have heard that troubles me. I have heard nothing like this sound before. Nothing so unassuming. Nothing that sounded so unimportant. In my experience, that in itself is very suspicious. And so, my Queen, I must know the nature of the spell you used.”

“I…” she began, the colour draining from her face. “Heimdall…I confess…I do not know it.” She placed her trembling hand onto his. “Forgive me, Heimdall. Oh I was stupid and careless, and I…I was so _desperate_. The visions I had been given…I just…I wanted to _change_ things. I went against the Norns, I…”

“My Queen.” He felt himself unable to give the warmth of his hand to her sovereign cheek, and so remained still. “Hush, my Queen. I swear to protect you. Always.” He smiled to her. “On my honour. On my sword. On my life.”

“Heimdall. Oh, you are such a good friend. Far better than I deserve.” She wiped the tear that budded amongst her eyelashes. “I…it was not mine. The spell was not mine. I confess; I do not even know the smallest of its nature. Only that it would change things.” Her voice began to waiver again. “Oh, and curse me, I trusted Hel to do it! Oh, Heimdall.”

“I will repair it, my Queen.”

“Thank you.” She let herself begin to smile.

“The King approaches, my Queen.” He informed her.

She smoothed strands of her hair, and rubbed her cheeks to bring colour back to them.

Odin rode forth in his evening robes, calling his horse to a halt. “Heimdall? What news?”

Frigga turned to him. “It is nothing, my King. I did not want to wake you…”

“The Queen asked me to inform her immediately should anything befall Loki.” Heimdall interrupted. “I fear I sent word too readily. He was briefly unconscious, and has now recovered. An effect of over-indulgence; not malice, as I had originally suspected. My apologies for waking you both, my King, my Queen.”

“It is quite alright, Heimdall.” Frigga smiled, gratitude shining forth.

“Yes.” Odin nodded, looking slightly puzzled. “Over-indulgence, you say?”

“Yes, my King.” Heimdall nodded.

“Oh.” Odin said, his horse impatiently shifting from side to side. “Drink?”

“Among other things.”  
 

#### Part 2 – A Good Plan

Aldrich Killian tried hard not to grin. He had a plan, a good plan. He was feeling pretty smug about it, actually, but that wouldn’t help matters. No. He had to be slick. He had to be smart. He also needed to be a little bit lucky. Not a whole lot. Not more than he was due. In the seven different scenarios he had imagined, it was only two in which he came out the loser.

The first of the two, the more likely, he might give something away; he might smile a little too often, or be pushed just that little bit too far into spilling something about his plan. Hey, he was proud. He knew his weaknesses. He made no apologies for them. Yes, this was the more likely of the two; that he would be discovered.

The second, was that he might fail. There were variations on this; he might fumble his grip, or the device in his ring might not activate properly, or not achieve contact, or…and admittedly least likely…she might realise what he was doing.

He figured that gave him a minimum 87 percent chance of success. Given the payoff, those were damn good odds.

The flipside, of course, in that other thirteen percent, was the cost; he imagined it would involve knives and a whole lot of pain before his eventual death. And he couldn’t pretend he wasn’t at least a little afraid of that outcome. Not enough to stop him, but just the right amount of fear; to keep him sharp, to make him focused.

As she emerged from the room, he twisted the ring on his left hand.

“Hey there. I just wanna say, no hard feelings.” He smiled. “You know I’m only looking out for him, right?”

“You are?” she asked, immediately changing direction and avoiding eye-contact. “How noble of you. To selflessly suck up to the alien king with superpowers. It’s a shame they don’t give out medals for it.”

“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with having important friends.” Killian replied. “I mean, Tony Stark for example. Iron Man. That’s a pretty useful guy to have around when the shit hits the proverbial…”

“If you are trying to insinuate something, try harder, Mr Killian.” She interrupted him, standing on the spot, arms folded. “I am fucking exhausted, and at this point you’re only covering old ground. So make a threat, or give me an insult to work with, or _something_ , before I lose all powers of concentration.”

At that moment, he really wanted to kill her. It would be so easy, too. In a matter of seconds, she would be a lifeless sack of meat, and not another fucking headache. But…then Loki would kill him. So he had to smile instead. “Look. I know you don’t like me. I get it. I wouldn’t like me either. But I’m not leaving. Neither are you. So it looks like, while we’re both here, we’re going to have to call a truce.” He held his right hand out to her. “Or we’re going to have to kill each-other.”

“Fine, Mr Killian.” She shook his hand. She didn’t even seem to react when his left hand pressed against her, the device in his ring activating. “I’m sure you won’t forget to mention it to him.”

He couldn’t hold back a grin; she hadn’t noticed. Not even when the needle had deployed. He had to give some credit to the tech guys. “And waste an opportunity? That would be bad business.” 

 

#### Part 3 – Snakes

After nearly thirty-six hours awake, Caitlyn was beginning to notice the signs of fatigue: her memory was screwed up, her balance off, and swore she was on the verge of collapsing to the floor with every step.

And her neck was really starting to hurt.

Depriving herself of sleep wasn’t like going without food, she decided. Being hungry almost felt like an accomplishment; knowing that she was fighting off one of the basic instincts of human nature, controlling what should be controlling her. Ignoring sleep, however, just made her clumsy and dulled her mind. It felt like weakness, rather than strength. Like the most important thing was eluding her.

She went to her room, barely noticing anything in it, and fell face-down on the bed. Her weary body went limp against the covers, and she closed her eyes.

And then she heard a chuckle.

“You…” she groaned “…you changed the fucking corridor.” Her words began to slur. The bed was far too comfy for her to fight back.

“Hush.” Loki replied, stroking her hair. “Sleep.”

“Hate…you…” she mumbled as she gave in to his warm command.

And she dreamt of such strange things…

 

_She was in a lecture hall; one from her University years. It was tall, made of dark wood, and echoed maddeningly. The seats were on a sharp incline; an old dissection theatre, designed to give all the budding anatomists a good view of the corpse. But today it was no longer being used for such a purpose. Today a woman stood in the centre, holding a small clicker._

_“Who can tell me what this is?” she asked, pressing the button._

_The image of a staff appeared; Bronze, winged, with two snakes intertwined._

_A voice beside her called a name…but it was the wrong name. She knew it was the wrong name._

_The woman smiled, and clicked to the next image._

_“It’s not.” Caitlyn called out. “It’s not that. It’s the wrong one.” The words were coming out muddled. She seemed to be getting closer and closer to the edge._

_The woman just smiled, and pressed the button again._

_“It’s…the real one…there’s no wings…”_

_That was right, wasn’t it?_

_“And one…only one snake.”_

_The woman pressed the button again._

_Now Caitlyn noticed; with every press, she tilted closer and closer to the edge; the balcony slipping downwards._

_She remembered another lecture, before; the difference between the two images, the two staffs. “One is for healing, the other is...liars.”_

_The woman pressed the button again._

_The whole balcony tilted over, until she was balanced standing on the railing. Her feet began to slip against the polished brass._

_“Rod of Asclepius, Rod of…Hermes.”_

_She had no idea where she pulled that from._

_The light changed now; a single spotlight upon her, as she clutched at the seats, trying to keep from falling into the writhing darkness below._

_The woman’s face changed; becoming paler, almost grey; and she seemed to gain a good two feet in height. “They’re all snakes, my dear.” She spoke with Loki’s voice. “All of them.”_

_Now she saw; the darkness, the moving darkness. It was a thick mess of crawling vipers._

_And hands. Dying Flesh_

_And she was slipping…_

 

She screamed; waking herself from the sleep she had so craved. Her eyes throbbed from the exhaustion of staying open, while her head pounded to match her racing heart. Her skin was hot, covered in sweat. The dress she had chosen a day and a half ago clung to her like a second skin. And it was dark here, in the little concrete tomb. So dark that she feared she would fall asleep again.

“Hush.” Loki whispered, laying his cool lips against her forehead. “You are safe.” He somehow opened her zip, and plied the dress from her shoulders.

She couldn’t do anything but shake, letting him undress her without the slightest fight.

“You have a fever.” He said, concerned. “Are you ill? If you need me to bring something…”

“Please.” She whispered, taking hold of his hand. “Stay.”

“Caitlyn, something is wrong. You look unwell.” He implored her. “I tried to heal you, but I do not know where to begin.”

She tried to place her thoughts together. “Fever. Rigors.” She mumbled. “Headache.” One more. There was one more… “…photophobia.”

“Tell me what that means.” He asked, kissing her hand. “I am ignorant of these things. You need to tell me what that means.”

She could barely remember… “What?”

“Fever, rigors, headache, photophobia.” He repeated.

“Meningitis.” she replied by instinct.

“And for the Norns’ sake, what does that mean?!” he grew more frantic. “Meningitis!? What is meningitis?”

Her head hurt when he screamed so loud. “Brain.” She said, hoping he would be quiet now.

Time to sleep again.

Time to feed the snakes.

   


#### Part 4 – Love and Hate

Loki glared at her. That foolish woman.

She slowly opened her eyes. “What?”

“You might have died.” He hissed.

“Don’t be so dramatic.” She replied, rolling away from him.

He caught her arm and pulled her back. “Do not _dare_.” He held her firmly in place. “How long were you ill?”

“Don’t know…half a day I guess? Maybe more.” She sighed. “It’s not like I did it on purpose.”

“As far as I know, you might have.” He felt his muscles tense. “Why did you not tell me?”

“I’m a doctor. We’re notoriously shit at diagnosing ourselves. It’s a thing; like bad handwriting and golf.” She rubbed her eyes. “I’m fine now. Get over it.”

He shook his head. “Do you have any idea how cruel you can be?”

“Says the mass murderer.” She retorted.

“That does not even compare!” he hissed.

“Why?” she asked.

“Because I killed only monsters and humans; neither matter.”

“I’m a human, Loki.” She replied.

“No. You are not.” He said pointedly.

“Why not?”

He felt the anger finally overflow in him, spewing out in hot words. “Because humans die!” he raged. “They get ill, and weak, and they die! And it is all so…pointless!”

Her mouth hung slightly open as he spoke.

“They flit away their meagre few years, worrying and fucking, until they die. And it amounts to nothing! Have you any idea how many mortal lives have passed during my lifetime? How many more will yet fade before they can even amount to anything? How short; how pathetic; how worthless is such a thing as a human life?!” He searched for something to throw, and cast a pillow against the far wall. “Such fickle things.” He muttered.

“You hate humans…because they die?” she stared at him. “Loki, everyone dies eventually. Everything ends.”

“Do not say that.” He growled. “I hate when you say that.”

“I’m going to die one day, Loki, and I’m ok with that.”

At that, he climbed over her and pulled her knees apart. “If you _ever_ say that again…” he freed himself from his trousers and roughly thrust into her.

She cried out, unprepared for his cock.

“…I will hurt you, _badly_.” He swore, thrusting again, to the hilt.

Her shouts of pain quickly changed to sighs, moans, as he took her violently.

He kissed her, biting her lips, giving her sweet flesh cause to bruise. He gripped her hands, and held them above her head until he managed to find the chains. He wrapped them securely around her wrists, holding her fast. It was only then that he pulled back.

“What?” she asked. “Loki? What the hell?” she twisted against the chains. “You…!”

He silenced her with a kiss, his tongue invading her mouth. He grasped her hair with both hands, feeling it soft and real between his fingertips. “ _Never_ do that again.” He ordered, leaving her lips and proceeding down her neck. He lay his teeth against her throat, and the monster in him wanted to tear it out.

She sighed as he made his way lower, biting and sucking, marking ever more of her skin. By the time he reached her cunt, she was soaking. She was virtually begging for it.

When he denied her, he was sure she wanted to scream. He trailed down her leg, before binding it to the bed.

“You fucker!” she yelled, thrashing, kicking with her free leg.

It took very little effort to pin it down, and chain it with its counterpart.

She twisted in place, cursing him. The bruises were beginning to grow. “I fucking hate you!”

He trailed his fingertips across her tender skin. “Oh darling, I know.” He bent down to kiss her stomach. “Sometimes, I hate you too.”

She bucked against him, hissing. “You fucking crazy person!”

He stood, sighed, and left her behind.  
 

#### Part 5 – A Businessman

When Killian found Loki, he was drinking alone in an antique chair, staring into the darkness. He wasn’t even attempting to look frightening anymore, but that desolate glare was in itself unnerving.

“I warn you, Mister Killian, I am in no mood for company.” Loki spoke coldly, gaze unwavering.

Killian hid his grin. “I’m sorry, King Loki. I only wanted to ask about that doctor of yours. She seemed sick earlier, I just wanted to make sure…”

“What?” Loki snapped, turning to him. “What do you know of it?” His eyes had turned a little red.

“Nothing, my King. She just looked a little ill to me.” Killian watched as Loki’s interest piqued. “Well, I’m not that kind of doctor…not exactly…so don’t trust my judgement on it, but…”

“But what?”

“Well, I don’t know what was wrong with her, but it looked like she was going downhill pretty fast. Picking up a sweat, having a hard time with the lights…” Now came the tricky part. The delicate part. He had to be careful. Loki wasn’t going to miss a lie. “…looked kinda like meningitis to me.”

Loki set the bottle down. “She would not tell me how it happened.”

Still alive. Pity. That had been around 90 percent, but still… “It’s not really for me to say, my King. I’m not…”

“No need for the self-deprecation and denial, Mr Killian, you do not play it well.” Loki hissed. “Tell me what you know.”

Remember, it’s not a lie. He can’t get you if you don’t lie. “From my understanding, it’s caused by an infection. Enters through the skin, or the mouth; spreads in the blood, to the brain; it’s the inflammation and swelling, mostly, that kills them. I’ve always found that interesting: it’s not the enemy that does the most damage; just has to show up, and they destroy themselves.”

Loki’s sullen form shrunk a little.

“Bacteria are like that. Just sit there in a diseased lung, or an _open wound_ …” He let the next fact fall from his trained mouth. “…like the one on Stark’s leg.” It wasn’t a lie. Not a lie. Only a fact. He would make the lie. “They just wait there for the opportunity, jump on in, and turn the body against itself.”

He rose and sent the table flying. The bottle shattered, the metal table bent in two.

Killian couldn’t have asked for anything better, anything grander, than a god’s rage. He swore Loki turned almost black amongst the shadows. “Guys like me, outcasts, _‘bad guys’_ , we don’t get what you want.” He began, unsure if he was still being listened to. “Forgive me, your majesty, but you don’t want to be like me. Not if you can help it. No, if Stark did something like that to me, I’d, well…” Killian smirked “…but you have something you don’t want to lose. That, highness, is where a guy like me can be useful. A guy like me, who can get his hands dirty. Someone who can be _the bad guy_.”

Loki spoke, face contorted by anger. “And why would you volunteer for such a position, Mr Killian? Out of the goodness of your heart?”

Tricky, tricky. Stay slick. You can do it. “Honestly? I fucking hate Tony Stark. And if that coincides with something I can do for you, well that’s swell.”

“You act the supplicant with ease, Mr Killian.” Loki smoothed back his wild black strands. “Do you think that I believe it for a minute?”

“No. Not even for a second. But I think you know what I really am.” Killian grinned.

“And what might that be?” Loki watched with caution, suspicion.

That was fine.

He knew exactly what to say.

Killian shrugged. “I’m a businessman.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Killian's getting pretty damn evil!
> 
> I love you guys for reading.
> 
>  
> 
> Let me know what you think.
> 
> x Pinch


	9. Deficit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As with most of Loki/Cailtyn, part 2 gets slightly Dub-Con.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

### Chapter 43 – Deficit 

#### Part 1 – An Impression

Killian ran a comb through his hair. He straightened his jacket. This was an important moment; he wanted to make an impression.

The door crawled open, and Tony Stark lay handcuffed to the metal table. Like all his Christmases come at once.

“Tony Stark.” Killian smiled.

“Still drawing a blank.” Stark replied.

“Aldrich Killian.”

Stark’s eyes narrowed. “People with dumb-ass names? People I don’t care about?” he mocked. “Ooh, gonna have to go for: People who wear white after labor-day.”

“You’re trying to piss me off, Tony. That’s not a good move.” He warned, removing his jacket.

“Why? Are we gonna dance-off, Saturday-night-fever?” Tony grinned. “Man, I am on fire tonight!”

“Not yet.” Killian grinned to himself as he rolled up his sleeves; folding the cuff just-so. “You’ve fucked-up Tony. Fucked-up big-time. All your money and your idiot friends can’t get you out of this one. You can’t smile and write a check to make this go away. That time has been and gone, Tony.” He walked to the tools, and picked up a knife. He was going to enjoy this. “And I know what you’re thinking; stall the guy long enough, and someone’s bound to come and rescue you. Right? Maybe the Doc…you know, if she isn’t being fucked into the ground…”

“Hey, shut the fuck up!” Tony spat.

“What? You know what’s happening to her. I know what’s happening to her. Loki _definitely_ knows what’s happening to her!” he laughed “You wanna pretend they’re making pottery?”

“You fucking asshole! When I get out of here I’m going to shove that smile so far up your ass…”

“Tony, Tony. Now, there’s no need for that.” He ran the tip of the blade up Stark’s neck. “I’m not gonna say what you’re suggesting is impractical, I’m just gonna say that threats work better when they’re simple. Like: when I get out of here, I’m going to find Pepper Potts, and I’m going to kill her.”

Stark screamed out some kind of obscenity, thrashed around a little, then lay still.

“That’s an example, Tony. Don’t get so worked up about it!” Killian laughed. “I’m not going to _kill_ Pepper…she’s a nice girl. Maybe I’ll just take her out for a bite to eat, let her cry her heart out about _‘the late Tony Stark’_ , then fuck her in that nice big white bed the two of you used to share…”

Stark managed to impale himself on the point of the blade, cutting a small hole in his neck. Luckily the knife was dull, and it didn’t go deep. Loki wouldn’t be pleased if Stark bled to death so soon.

“Tony. Tony. Stop it. You’re getting yourself upset again. That’s not helpful. I’m not here to kill you, but I am here to hurt you. I don’t like it…” he sniggered. What a fucking lie. He turned the handle of the scalpel to Stark’s cheek. “But Loki wants to use that little grease-monkey brain of yours, and it’s up to me to make that happen.”

“So you really are Loki’s little bitch, huh?” Stark spoke through gritted teeth.

“No. That’s your Doc. I thought we had covered this, Tony.” He gave a fake sigh. “Right now he’s pulling her hair and fucking her over his throne. He’s tearing her to fucking pieces. You know it’s true. And you made that happen, Tony. Are you proud?”

Stark muttered something.

“What? What was that, Tony?” Killian smiled, drawing closer. “I didn’t hear you.” He lay his ear above Stark’s mouth.

Stark’s head smacked against him at full force. “Go fuck yourself, Aldrich Killian.”

Killian stepped back, rubbing his face. “You know, that almost hurt.”

“You go back to Loki, and you tell that son of a bitch that he gets _nothing_ from me.” Stark glared, tearing against the handcuffs. “And if he hurts my friends, I’ll kill him myself.”

“And what about me, Tony? What are you going to do to me?” Killian goaded him. “Come on.”

“I’m going to fucking erase you; so the world never has to know that a worthless piece of shit like you ever existed.” Stark seethed, face hot with surging blood.

Killian laughed to himself, setting the knife down, and picking up a set of curved pliers. “Oh, Tony. You have _no idea_ how much I look forward to it.”  
 

#### Part 2 – Deficit

Caitlyn struggled against the chains. Her wrists bruised and began to swell, making her actions all the more futile. Her ankle had only just stopped bleeding; in the excitement of finding a loose link, she had been too vigorous and managed to tear open a small gash in her skin.

She let out an exasperated sigh. She didn’t even have any slack to work with. Loki had chained her at full length, naked, with her belly on display; like a prime specimen in a butcher’s shop. Other than the chains, everything on the bed was useless. She couldn’t even get to a loose spring. Which was impressive, actually, given the workout they had previously given…No. Not the time.

Although, when this was all over, she would have to get the name of the manufacturer.

_You’re fucking insane, you know that?_

“I know.” She whispered to herself.

_So what are you going to do now? How are you going to get out of this?_

She didn’t know how to answer that. Maybe in a couple of hours, if he didn’t notice, she could work the chains loose. And then what? She was pretty sure the door wasn’t locked, but where the hell could she go? Back to her room? It was a stupid idea to even try to escape. But that didn’t stop her. She pulled harder on her wrists, and cried out when the metal crushed into her bruised skin.

“You should not have done that.” Loki’s voice jolted her.

She let her hand settle back into its previous position. “I didn’t have much choice.”

He walked to the end of the bed, inspecting the damage she had done to her ankles. “I was going to let you go.” He spoke softly, healing her with his gentle fingertips. “If you had been good.”

“Quoth the liesmith.” She muttered.

He trailed his hand upwards, leaving the rest of the bruises as they were. “But I see now that you need further time to reflect on your betrayal.”

“Betrayal?”

“Yes betrayal.” He hissed. “And do not give me that attitude; I am in no mood for it!” His hand was once more wrapped around her throat. He stared at it as though it was some phantom creature, then released her.

“You can’t keep me locked up forever, Loki.” She said, recoiling slightly as he stroked her cheek.

“I could. Easily.” He replied, staring into her eyes, searching for something. “But I won’t.” He perched on the side of the bed, then lay down, his head upon her chest. His eyes closed tightly shut, brow furrowed. His sleek black hair cascaded over her skin, tickling her.

“You’re listening in the wrong place.” she eventually blurted out. It was so annoying when people got it wrong. “That’s nowhere near…” she stopped when she realised what he was doing; he wasn’t listening, he was crying.

Tears trickled down his sharp face, pooling cold against her skin.

She half wished she had a free hand, just to wipe them away. “Loki, I…”

“Do not give me _pity_! I do not need _pity_!” he roared, but didn’t move from her.

Caitlyn couldn’t think what else to do, so she lay there, silently and still, waiting for him to act.

“What is so wrong that you cannot love me?” he asked, voice breaking between sobs. “What great deficit do you find in me?”

“Loki…” she sighed. “…we’ve been over this already.”

“Then tell me again!” he screamed. “Tell me, and I shall carve every word into my chest; that I might be reminded of it whenever my heart is pained!” he grasped her hard for a moment, fingernails breaking red crescents into her sides, then loosened his grip. “I am sorry. Darling, I am so sorry.” He stroked her skin, shining green mist dancing between his fingertips as the bruises healed. “Tell me. I must know.”

She spoke calmly, clearly, trying not to let her exasperation show. “Loki. You kill people; you tortured my friend; and you don’t care. Nothing you can give me is going to change how I feel about that.”

He winced. “I knew as much.” He moved slowly, turning his face to kiss her tear-wet breast. “Forgive me; each time I hope for a different answer…one I might have a chance to remedy.”

She waited before saying the words that always angered him. “Let him go. Please.”

This time he didn’t scream, or fight, he just seemed to sink. “I cannot.” He breathed, kissing her breasts.

Against all her will, when he took her nipple in his mouth, she moaned. His lips worked their way down. She ground herself against his fingers as they slipped over her clit. She cried out as he thrust them deep inside her, his silver-tongue beginning its work between her legs.

This wasn’t like before; he wasn’t teasing her, he was making her come. Forcefully, repeatedly, her body shaking, muscles tensing, heart pounding. His black hair damp across her thighs.

“Ah!” her whole body surged with white hot energy, muscles clamping down against his fingers. She thought that would be the end of it.

He moved faster, firmer, his tongue playing her perfectly.

It was too much. She squeezed her thighs tightly, trying to get him to stop. It had little effect on his attentions. “Loki…” she tried to speak, but was caught in another wave of pleasure. She tensed against the chains, her wrists aching. Everything hurt, but she didn’t care. “Oh god…” she groaned, as she felt his teeth graze her sensitive skin. She threw her head back, panting for breath. “…stop…” she said, and she half meant it.

He didn’t stop. He wouldn’t stop.

She lay weak on the bed, covered in sweat. Her muscles burned from the strain. The fingers inside her moved in an almost mechanical way; unfaltering, unyielding…She cried out. “Loki! Enough!”

He sucked on her until she must have bruised, still driving her into ecstasy.

“Please!” she begged. “I can’t…” her body proved that she could, seizing, arching “Loki!” It was so much worse now; that ache of anaerobic respiration. But that rush, oh god; that surge of…bliss. “Oh…!”

He was going to kill her. He was going to make her come to death.

She groaned, she twisted, she tried to fight, becoming weaker with every minute.

Loki didn’t even pause.

“I’m sorry!” she burst out. “Please. Stop.”

He finally did. When he pulled away from her, he didn’t meet her eyes. “I shall return, later.” He said softly, and disappeared.

She sighed, letting her hot and damp body finally rest.

_Where the fuck does he go?_  
 

#### Part 3 – The Life Unlived

Nick Fury wasn’t sure, exactly, what he had been expecting to find when he turned on the light in his Shield quarters. It had been a long fucking day, with a long fucking argument with the council. He had felt something bad coming on the horizon. But, whatever he had expected, it surely wasn’t that.

His first thought was: _‘So he’s come to kill me. I thought it would be sooner.’_ Then something twinged in the back of his mind. This didn’t look right. This didn’t look like the Loki who he had seen a couple of days before.

The demigod took a swig of some bottle, leaning back into Fury’s armchair. There was something… a little off about him. “Hello Nicholas.” He was curled almost protectively; not his usual swaggering self. 

_Although, this could all be some trick. He might just be messing with me until he gets bored._

_Play along. You might as well._

“Loki? Are you drunk?” Fury scowled.

“A little.” Loki replied. “Care to join me?”

He thought about it for a moment. “…What you drinking?”

Loki inspected the bottle, holding it up to the light. “Macallan whiskey.” He read. “I believe it is rather expensive.”

“It is.” Fury agreed, and went to get a glass.

_If he wants to give me expensive Scotch, who am I to say no?_

Loki poured generously. Hell, he could afford to.

“It’s good.” Fury said, feeling the warmth rush through him.

Loki nodded in reply. Didn’t seem so talkative this time around.

That worried him a hell of a lot.

“I have had such a fucking day.” Fury sighed back in his chair. “Out of interest; you’ve got one of the council, haven’t you?”

Loki cracked a smile. “One? Oh, Nicholas, you severely underestimate me.”

“Shit.” Fury rubbed his forehead. “No wonder it’s such a goddamn waste of time.” Eight hours, that meeting lasted. Eight hours wasted. At least he was making progress now. With a drunk Loki in the room, he was getting more info than the last month of recon. “How’s Russia?” he ventured.

“Russia.” Loki took another sip from the bottle. “Russia is corrupt and dull. I will tolerate one, but not both.”

“Yeah?!” Fury laughed, drawing a grin from Loki. “Crazy how the world changes, but nothing’s ever different.” He drank a little more of the whiskey; about five hundred dollars’ worth.

“Are you not worried I will try to poison you, Nicholas?” Loki asked. “Or do you now resign yourself to failure?”

_There’s the arrogant demigod we all love to hate._

“If you wanna poison me with expensive Scotch, that’s your call.” Fury smiled, draining the glass. “But somehow, I don’t think you’d do it.”

_Keep him on side._

“No, Nicholas. I would not. You deserve a better death than that.” Loki poured him another drink. “To Valhalla.” 

_The fuck?_

“Valhalla.” Fury toasted with him, glass gently clinking against the bottle. “Is that where the good Asgardians go?”

_Keep him talking._

“If you are asking if I expect to go there when I depart the nine, the answer is no.” He gave a brief shrug. “But die well in battle, Nicholas, and I am sure the Valkyries will speed you there.”

“Thanks…I think.” Fury replied, unsure whether it was a death-threat.

“It is a complement; you may take it as one.” Loki stated, eyes aimlessly wandering around the room.

That was definitely the strangest sentiment to come out of Loki’s mouth. Or so he thought, until Loki spoke again.

“Being King…it is not how I thought it would be.” He spoke slowly, his long fingers tracing the neck of the bottle.

“Can I take that as your unconditional surrender?” Fury asked with a smile.

Loki chuckled. “Not quite, Nicholas…” he frowned. “You have no pictures. No family or friends.”

“My team is my family.” He replied.

“Yes, but…” Loki seemed at a loss for words, his face scowled. “But it all seems so… _sad_.” He rose from the chair, and walked to study an empty picture-frame. “So… _hollow_.”

Fury shrugged. “I knew a long time ago I wasn’t going to get the white-picket-fence ending. That’s one of the sacrifices I made, so I…”

“So that you could face creatures like me.” Loki interrupted. “Do you regret it? The time unspent? The life unlived?”

“No.” Fury replied.

“Do not lie to me, Nicholas.” He didn’t seem angry; more disappointed.

“Ok. Sometimes I do.” Fury admitted. “But if I had to, I’d do it all over again.”

Loki turned to him, face ashen. “Would you? All of it? I cannot think of anything for which I would say the same. I…” He fell back against the wall in a listless way. “I used to admire you for it, Nicholas. I thought you focused; courageous and cunning. But now…now, I think I pity you.”

“Hey, I thought we were getting along here!” Fury smiled. “Telling me I’m going to Valhalla, then that my life’s all for shit.”

Loki gave an apologetic grin. “I am capricious in my inebriation.”

“But you’re still showing off.” Fury replied, taking time to savour the last drops in his glass.

Loki laughed lightly, almost childishly.

Fury’s glass was immediately refilled. “You’re gonna have to stop doing that, Loki. I don’t think I can drink as hard as you can.”

“This is my fourth bottle.” Loki shrugged, returning to his seat.

“And you’re sharing it with me?” Fury couldn’t help but laugh at that. “The world is getting very fucking strange, isn’t it?”

“That it is, Nicholas.” Loki sighed, rolling his head back on his shoulders. His black hair fell to nearly his waist when he did. “I don’t want to kill you, Nicholas.”

_There it is._

“Then don’t.” Fury replied, trying not to sound shaken.

“I may have to.” His head lolled to the side. “But out of respect, I shall make it quick.”

“Respect?” Fury tasted the word on his tongue. “Is that what this is?”

“And for what it is worth; you were right.” For a second, the way the light fell; it almost looked like he had tears in his eyes. “I cannot seem to win. The crown’s lustre is dulled by the thoughts of that which I did not accomplish…”

It took a second, but then it appeared; like a light suddenly flickering into life. A sudden realisation; Loki wasn’t playing with him. He wasn’t threatening him. He was confessing.

The King who would trade his crown for a white-picket-fence.

Loki sat upright, shaking his sadness off, and set the bottle down. “Farewell, Nicholas.” He said, and vanished.

“Hill?” Fury spoke into his headset. “Did you catch that?”

_‘Every word, Sir.’_ She replied. _‘Looks like Loki’s deeper in the council than we thought.’_

“Protocol six-four-alpha, Hill.” He ordered, taking another sip of Scotch. “And see if you can track his movements. He’ll be going back to base eventually.”

_‘Are you sure, Sir?’_ she asked.

Fury thought of the look in Loki’s eyes; heartbreak. “I am very fucking sure.”  
 

#### Part 4 – Heimdall and Hel

Heimdall stared out amongst the stars; no longer looking, rather searching for courage. He had never contacted the realms beyond before, and frankly feared the consequences. He was not given to believing superstition and rumour, but there had been talk of a previous gatekeeper; who had opened the doors to Valhalla, and had brought forth the wrath of the Valkyries upon Asgard.

What he was about to attempt felt far more dangerous.

He placed his sword against the bifrost’s shattered edge, letting its magic project into his vision.

“Mistress Hel.” He spoke with all the strength he could muster. “I would speak with you.”

A bought of laughter chilled him deep.

“Mistress Hel.” He repeated. “Heimdall of Asgard requests an audience with you.”

_‘Heimdall. I know who you are.’_ Her voice pierced his mind. _‘Heimdall the Guardian. Heimdall the valiant. Heimdall the traitor.’_

“If you call me traitor, you mistake me for someone else, Queen of Helheim.” He replied. “I speak with you for my King and Queen, and for the good of all Asgard.”

She laughed again, the sound smothering his thoughts.

“Mistress Hel, I beg your help, but if you will not give it, I shall not detain you further.” He warned.

_‘Oh, but I would love to chat.’_ She said gleefully. _‘It’s nothing but screaming most of the time. Would you like to hear it?’_

At that moment, the sound of a thousand souls suffering flooded Heimdall’s ears. He nearly collapsed from the weight of it. “Hel!”

_‘Oh, alright.’_ She replied, letting the sounds fall to silence.

“Asgard requires your service. I beseech you.”

_‘Asgard has already endured quite a great deal of my service.’_ She giggled. _‘What more would you have of it?’_

“I would know the nature of the spell you told my Queen, and how to undo it.” The toll of keeping the connection open was starting to weigh on Heimdall, his knees ready to buckle.

_‘It cannot be undone.’_

Heimdall grunted. She was lying to him. “All magics can be undone, Hel.”

_‘Once.’_ She answered, voice now calmer, free of that laughter.

“You must speak more plainly, Hel. I have no gift for riddles.” The pain was beginning, his head splitting from the inside out.

_‘It feels like death.’_ Her voice sang.

“Hel! Tell me what you have done!” he cried, unable to maintain the connection much longer.

The next words she spoke meant nothing to him. He almost believed he had invented them himself, or slipped into another connection. Those words would never mean anything to an Asgardian. In fact it was a pity, really, that he never shared them with any of the millions of creatures who would know exactly what they meant.

Just before he fell, he heard her voice calling to him, over the great distance.

_‘I have unmade The Tin Man.’_


	10. Love's Nature

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: violence and torture (and not the good kind) in part 2.

### Chapter 44 – Love’s Nature

#### Part 1 – Mortals and Monsters

Frigga screamed as she saw Heimdall fall from the Bifrost; golden figure disappearing into the realm of black mist, just as she had lost her son. His face was expressionless, unconscious. The light of morning glinted off his blade, before he left for eternal night…

Her eyes flicked open, just in time to see Heimdall balancing his blade on the edge of the Bifrost, and calling out in pain.

“Thor!” she cried, summoning her son from the nearby room, where he had been conversing with Odin. “Thor!”

“What is it, mother?” he asked.

“Heimdall!” she shrieked, stretching out her hand to him as he teetered towards the edge.

In an instant, Thor flew from the room.

She watched, unable to breathe, as Heimdall’s golden form slipped from her sight. It was a long, cold moment, before she saw Thor dragging him back onto the bridge.

“Frigga? What is it?” Odin asked.

Heimdall lay still on the bridge. She thought she heard Thor calling for the healers.

“Frigga?”

“Heimdall…I saw him fall…” she trembled.

_She could not lose him. Not Heimdall._

“Loki goes too far.” Odin grumbled. “He will pay for this.”

She turned sharply. “It was not Loki.”

“Frigga…”

“No. I know my son, and this was not his doing.” She straightened her skirts, and pulled her stray hair back into place. “He would not do this to me. To us.” She corrected herself, trying to portray it as part of her distress. “And besides; to project over such a distance…he is not capable of that.”

Heimdall did not stir as the healers knelt at his sides, attending to him.

“Loki has proven himself to be capable of a great many things I thought impossible.” Odin said softly, laying his hand on her shoulder.

“No.” she shook her head. “He would not. Not my boy.”

_Loki would not be so cruel as to take away her only friend. No; he was selfish, but never cruel._

“Frigga…he has killed…” Odin attempted reason.

“Only mortals and monsters.” She spat at him, realising the bile in it only as she had finished speaking. “No. Not my Loki.”

_Not my Loki._  

 

#### Part 2 – Business in Russia

Snow gripped the cold stone buildings that lined the northern fortress of Vyborg. The lakes had frozen solid. Even the sea around the new Americo-Russian naval base was starting to gather large chunks of ice, which beat against the bay daily. It seemed that the Russian weather cared very little for the calendar.

“Supposed to be Autumn.” One of the American soldiers muttered.

Steve Rodgers nodded, folding his arms tight around his chest, shuddering against the bitter wind. His trademark suit had been swapped for something less flashy, but the leather jacket didn’t keep out the cold quite like his modified Shield suit had. Shield uniforms were getting thinner on the ground these days.

“You think it’s…?” the soldier continued.

“I don’t know.” Steve answered, bracing back against a doorway as another flurry of snow raged past.

In the almost two months since Loki began his invasion of earth, rumours had started to spread: that he was everywhere at once; that he could read minds; that he could control people, make them do what he wanted with only a look. Now the latest was that he could create snowstorms so powerful that they froze men into ice.

The soldier was silent for a moment, eyes hollowed with fear. “They said he’s a god.”

“Then they’re wrong.” Steve replied, kicking snow from his boots. “There’s only one God, and Loki’s going to have to answer to him. I’ll see to that.”

The soldier nodded. The word of Captain America was one that still meant something to a few.

Steve was starting to worry, though; Natasha was late. It wasn’t like her to be late. They had chosen this point to meet specifically because it was one of the easier areas to get to from Loki-controlled Europe, but afforded enough cover that she should be able to shake off anyone who followed. That was the theory anyway…He shouldn’t have let her go alone. She was the best he’d ever met at what she did, but even top spies needed backup. But she refused, like always.

_‘I’ll be back to kick your ass before dinner.’_

By the time it hit half an hour, Steve knew that something had gone wrong. Then it was an hour. Now two.

“Sir!” another of the men shouted in a heavy Russian accent “Comrade Romanova’s tracking chip activated!”

He jumped in his skin. “Where?”

“Point eight kilometres South East.”

Steve frowned; that was unlike her. “That’s residential.”

“Yes, Sir.” He replied.

“I’ll go.” Steve nodded. “It might be a trap. You hold the fort here, unless you hear otherwise.” He ordered the officers.

“Sir.” The Russian nodded.

“Yes, Sir.” The American soldier echoed.

Steve took the receiver, and headed towards the signal. At his super-soldier speed, it didn’t take him long, even over the frozen terrain. He almost skidded past the entrance of the building, regaining his balance abruptly, and climbed the frozen steps to the door. The unlocked door.

She would never have left a door unlocked.

He pushed on the door, entering into what must have once been an upscale home. Since the invasion, the people had fled further from the border, and the military had done a poor job of protecting their homes from looters. There was very little that hadn’t been stripped away; the floors were bare, covered in a thin layer of dust, the setting sun shone through curtainless windows.

Natasha would definitely not have come here. Not willingly.

It was then that he saw a shadow move in the corner of his vision.

“Lower the weapon, Barton.” He ordered.

Barton complied, but refused to disarm completely. “She’s not here.”

Steve nodded. He had expected as much, but now dread was beginning to seep in.

“Chip’s upstairs.” Barton indicated to the hallway.

“Anything else?” he asked, following Barton through.

“Yeah, a big-ass TV.”

Steve’s heart stopped for a moment, and all he could hear was the wailing wind outside.

“Are you coming or not?” Barton asked, ascending the wooden stairs. Each one creaked beneath his footsteps.

His feet refused to move beneath him, fearing what lay at their destination. “Barton, this is a trap.”

Barton turned to him, his eyes sharp. “I know it is, and it’s waiting for you. Are you telling me Captain America’s too scared to spring it?” The bitterness in his voice seeped through.

Things had been difficult between them even before Steve had started sleeping with Natasha. It was like Barton had sensed it coming. They didn’t have much opportunity to speak, but when they did meet, there was a kind of unacknowledged mutual silence. He hadn’t stopped Natasha from meeting him, though. Steve trusted Barton, and knew there was nothing he wouldn’t do to protect her. Heck, he had even wanted him to accompany her on this recon.

If only he had insisted harder. Pulled rank. She might not be…

As they reached the top of the stairs, he heard a faint buzzing, and saw a flickering light seeping through the cracks in an old wooden doorframe. Barton was first to open the door, and to see the face that greeted them on the screen.

_“Hello, Agent Barton.”_ Loki smiled, his ghost-white face bathing the room in a pale glow. _“Captain Rodgers, don’t be shy. There is someone who wants to speak to you.”_ He stepped back and to the side, revealing Natasha.

Steve felt a lump in his throat; there she was, stripped to her thin black tank-top and slacks, sitting very still under the harsh lights.

She stared calmly into the camera, her trained face unflinching, even as Loki drew a knife. _“Tell him nothing.”_ She spoke without emotion.

Loki drew the knife to her face. _“I know that at least one of you knows where Doctor Banner is. So we’re going to play a little game.”_ He stroked back her hair with the point of the blade. _“Tell me the truth, or Ms Romanova dies.”_

“Four cameras in the room.” Barton commented, scanning the darkness. “We’ve got no confirmation that it’s a live feed.”

Steve had almost forgotten that there was another person in the room. His heart beat so loud he could barely hear him. “Where is she?” he asked, trying to mimic Natasha’s calm.

_“Close by.”_ Loki replied. _“If you had all night, you might find her. Sadly, you do not.”_ He twisted the point against her neck, until he just broke the skin.

A small trail of blood oozed down from the wound. _“Nothing.”_ She spoke to the camera, this time a little shaken.

“Loki, you let her go right now.” Steve spoke to the screen.

“Sure, _that’s_ gonna work.” Barton quipped. “Maybe you should count to five.”

“Or what?” Loki’s voice called from behind him. The false god had appeared in the flesh, glaring down at the both of them. “Will you kill me?” he asked, brandishing the blade that still had traces of her blood. “Would you try?”

“What do you think?” Barton asked, arrow raised at Loki’s head. He was a hell of a shot, but at this range, even Steve wouldn’t have missed.

“Oh, little hawk.” Loki sneered. “You always fly to your mistress’ side.” There was drink on his breath.

“Loki.” Steve tried to regain his attention. “Let her go.”

“As soon as you tell me where I can find Doctor Banner, I would be happy to oblige.” Loki shrugged, looking down his sharp features at him. “I rather enjoy watching this little drama play out between the three of you.”

_“Tell him nothing.”_ Natasha repeated.

“How do we know that’s really her?” Barton’s fingers tensed on the bow.

“Do not test me, boy!” Loki snarled. “You do not wish to find out!” He vanished from them, and appeared on the screen. _“I think they will break.”_ He told Natasha. _“And, do you know why?”_ he bent closer, sliding the blade through drops of her blood.

She didn’t reply, face cold. It was an expression Steve had seen on her before; the one time he had managed to get her to talk about her past: she was switching off.

_“Because they’re in love with you.”_ Loki answered his own question.

Steve glanced to Barton, who was staring right back at him. Neither said a word.

_“Do you feel guilty? Using them like that?”_ Loki asked, sliding the blade over her shoulder. _“Do you care for either of them?”_

“We don’t know where Banner is.” Steve told the screen. “So you just let the lady go.”

“Is he always this dim?” Loki asked from over Barton’s shoulder.

“Ninety percent of the time.” Barton’s arrow was less than an inch from Loki’s face.

“So why did she choose him over you?” Loki purred.

Steve felt the discomfort of being reminded that he was the other guy. “Loki, you just…”

“No. I was not talking to you, Captain Rodgers.” Loki held his hand up to silence him. “Tell me, Agent Barton. Why would she choose him over you?”

“Maybe he has a bigger dick.” Barton smirked.

Loki shrugged. “Possibly.”

Steve felt his face turn bright red.

“But I think it is something else…” Loki vanished again, appearing next to Natasha. _“…am I not right, Ms Romanova?”_

_“You’re a little obsessed.”_ She replied sternly. She did, however, flinch when he ran his fingers through her hair.

He mock-sighed, then wrenched her head back, and twisted it to the side. _“This vein here; when severed, death occurs within ten minutes. Do you think you could reach her by then?”_

Those words sent Steve’s heart plummeting. _No._

_“No.”_ Loki stated, shoving her head forwards. _“So if I tell you to answer me, that is what you do.”_

She recoiled back into the chair; clearly being held by restraints.

_“Tell them.”_ Loki persisted. _“Tell them why. And do not attempt to lie to me.”_

“You know, there’s something wrong with him.” Barton commented to Steve.

“There is nothing wrong with me!” Loki roared, kicking Barton to the floor. “I am a GOD, you insolent worm!”

Steve didn’t think, he just ran, tackling Loki to the side before he had chance to stamp on Barton’s head. He fell to the floor as Loki vanished beneath him. He scrambled up and helped Barton to his feet. “You take three o’clock, I’ll take nine.”

Barton nodded, and they stood back-to-back.

_“So how’s your plan working out?”_ Natasha smiled. _“Are they fighting each-other yet?”_

Loki backhanded her face. The sound of it reverberated throughout the room.

Blood streamed down from her broken nose. She laughed, until he hit her again. This time she doubled over, gasping for breath.

_“Where is Doctor Banner?!”_ Loki screamed. He pulled her left hand from behind her and raised his knife.

Steve screwed his eyes shut when he heard her shriek.

“Open your eyes, Captain Rodgers.” Loki ordered, shoving the still warm stump of flesh into his hand. “There are nine more to go.”

Vomit rose in Steve’s throat.

“Sao Paulo.” Barton spoke. “Last contact was Sao Paulo.”

_“There.”_ Loki grinned from the screen. _“That was not so difficult. Now, why did she choose him?”_

“Are you fucking insane?!” Barton yelled. “What the hell does it matter?!”

“It matters, because I say it matters.” Loki replied, staring down into Barton’s face. “Because I am the one in charge. Because I am the King.”

_“Steve wouldn’t have given up the info.”_ Natasha hissed in pained breath.

_“Really?”_ Loki bent to her side. _“How disloyal.”_ He played with her mutilated hand, blood sprayed from the stump and onto his knife. _“Agent Barton clearly cares more for you.”_

Barton grit his teeth.

_“Oh, I see.”_ Loki grinned. _“Did your past become too much to bear? Every time you looked at him, were you reminded of the debt you owe?”_ he ran the flat of the bloody knife across her chest. _“Poor Barton, who loved you dearly, was no match for the prospect of redemption.”_ He drew a dark trail down to her breast.

She turned and whispered something to him; he stopped, his face sunk, drained of what little colour it had before.

Loki vanished.

Steve glanced around him, but the false god was nowhere to be seen. He had gone.

An address appeared on the screen.

“Right across the road.” Barton noted. “Bring the finger. If we’re quick they can reattach it.”

“That…she…What did she do?” Steve asked, focusing on trying not to vomit.

“What Nat always does!” He called behind, sliding down the bannister and towards the door. “She finds the weak spot!”

“You…” Steve caught up with him. “…you told him Banner’s location. You betrayed us.”

He sprang out into the street, charging forward. “Grab some of the snow, pack the finger in it.”

Steve glanced down at the finger again, and felt himself go woozy.

“Don’t faint on me now, Captain boy-scout.” Barton smiled. “Do you wanna save the day or not?”

Steve managed a nod, and set off after him.

It took less than a minute to reach the old wooden door, with peeling black paint. “After you, super-soldier.” Barton stepped aside.

He broke down the door with a firm tackle, and both burst in to find Natasha waiting for them: her hand wrapped in a makeshift bandage; the lower half of her tank top torn for the purpose. Even her face was cleaned of most of the blood from her nose.

“What took you guys so long?” she walked past them into the street.

“Hey, it’s not my fault, Nat!” Barton laughed. “Steve wouldn’t give up the info!”

“Really?” she looked to him.

“I, um…” Steve started to apologise, then question whether he should apologise, then wonder if that made him a bad person…

“Steve, you really think she’d give you info if she didn’t want it shared?” Barton patted him on the back. “Lesson one about Nat: secrets she tells you aren’t really secrets.”

“You got my finger?” she asked sweetly, as dark red drops dripped from her bandage, deep into the snow.

Steve nodded, holding it out as far as his arm would stretch. When she accepted it, he sighed with relief.

“Medics ‘ll be here in less than five…unless you want another Sudan.” Barton winked.

“Sudan.” She muttered. “How could I forget?”

An icy wind whipped through the desolate street, casting drifts of snow into the air. Although a proud Russian, Natasha still shivered in her half-shredded tank-top. Instinctively, Steve took off his jacket and draped it around her shoulders.

Barton and Natasha shared a glance, and Barton let out a little: “aww”.

Natasha glared at him.

“But he’s so adorable!” Barton grinned.

“So, let me get this straight.” Steve began, fists tensing up. “You gave me false information; you risked your own life; you would have had me think I had betrayed the free world…”

“Don’t forget I had to pretend to hate your guts.” Barton smiled, patting him on the shoulder. “Aw, man. I can’t even tell you how hard that was.” He looked apologetically to Natasha. “But it was!”

She brandished her mutilated hand.

“Hey, you didn’t have to see his face, ok?”

The sound of engines approaching heralded the squad’s arrival.

Natasha spoke over the rising noise. “Tell Fury he was right. He’ll know what it means.”

“You going to tell me what you said to Loki?” Barton asked.

“No.” she replied, extending her hand out to the medics to give them her severed finger.

“Not even if I tell you I got the tracker on him?” Barton smiled with pride.

She tilted her head to the side. “I think I’m actually impressed.”

“Excuse me, if I could just interrupt for a second.” Steve attempted to pull her aside, but the medics were swarming around her hand. He dropped to a whisper. “Was it all for show?”

Her free hand shot to the back of his head, and pulled his lips to hers. Her tongue darted between his lips, tinged with traces of her blood, as her hand pressed firmly into his hair. She pulled away from him. “What do you think, Captain?” she smirked. “Now go. I’ll be back for dinner.”

He struggled to form words. “If you’re not, mam, there’ll be hell to pay.”  
 

#### Part 3 – The Promise

_Ok, Caitlyn, so you’ve pissed off the god of mischief, and now you’re naked and chained to a bed. His bed. In the middle of his underground bunker. Where he’s also holding your friend, and possibly torturing him. How are you going to fix this?_

_Try starting with: Why is he upset?_

“Because I had the audacity to get sick.” She grumbled.

_No. Deeper._

“Betrayed him?” she guessed “Hurt him?”

_Why? Why is he hurt?_

“Because…he cares about me…” That was a chilling thought.

_And…_

“And…I would have left him.”

_There you go. Now how do you make up for that?_

“Why should I…?”

_Do you want to get out of here, or do you want to keep talking to yourself forever? Exactly. Now, think of a way to fix it. You’re smart. You fix people for a living. Fix this. Fix this just long enough to get Tony Stark out of here, then fuck it._

For the eighteenth time that night, she twisted her wrist and squeezed it between the loops of metal. No luck.

_You can’t escape. Escape would be bad. Escape would be further betrayal. Further betrayal equals cage. Not a good plan. Not even if it’s the normal plan. You can’t just run away from this one, and you can’t keep pretending it’s not really happening. You’ve got to face this._

“Fuck that.” She muttered.

_No. Caitlyn, don’t be an idiot!_

She pulled with full force, holding back a scream as metal crushed into her bones, and…free. Her hand was free! She held it in front of her face; scarcely able to believe what she had done. She laughed in surprise. The chains now looser, her other hand came free in a few minutes’ contortion. She sat bolt upright, and went to release her ankles. She now noticed the small trail of dried blood down the side of her foot. So it really had been a deep wound.

_He’s going to be so pissed-off when he finds you…_

“Shut up.” She whispered; chains clinking as she pulled her ankle out of its bindings. “I’ve got a plan.”

_No you haven’t. You can’t lie to yourself, Caitlyn. You don’t have a plan._

“I will by the time I stand up.” She replied, swinging her legs over the side of the bed.

_So you’re up. What’s the plan?_

She didn’t know how to respond, only that whatever she decided would probably be easier to accomplish with clothes on. She glanced around; no sign of the dress she had worn earlier. She decided to head for the wardrobe.

A sudden crash shook the room, as Loki collapsed against the wall. “Caitlyn?!” he yelled.

She had to think fast. “It’s alright, Loki. I’m here.” She said softly, pulling the silken fabric down her body. She emerged from behind the wardrobe door.

“What are you doing?!” he barked at her. “Where do you think you’re going?!”

“I got cold. I thought I’d put something on.” She replied, trying not to notice the actual blood on his hands.

“Get back on the bed.” He ordered, glaring at her. “Now.”

_Don’t be stupid, Caitlyn. Just do it._

She stepped back cautiously.

_Fucking idiot._

“You will do as I command!” He strode towards her and grabbed her by the wrist, dragging her to the bed. “You are mine, you worthless whore!” his features were contorted in anger, and for a moment his eyes looked darker; almost a deep red.

She rebounded against the mattress as he tossed her onto her front. This time she was bound even tighter; chains cutting deep into her already bruised skin. She didn’t react to that. She didn’t react to anything he did, but she did glance at him.

_He’s hurt. He's frightened._

“Are you alright, Loki?” she asked. “You look upset.”

He stared at her as if she had stared speaking Greek.

She tried a different tactic. “Do you like the dress?” she turned her head to look over her shoulder.

“I…” he began, suddenly much calmer, if a little confused. “Yes. I do.”

“Good.” She smiled to him. “Are you tired?”

He glanced to the side, and replied hesitantly. “Yes.”

“Would you like to come to bed?”

That completely threw him. His mouth made a few odd shapes, before he responded: “Yes.” Then he remained in stunned silence.

“Do you want to take off your armour, then?” She grinned.

“Oh…” he shuddered back into life “…yes.” His lips cracked a thin smile.

She watched as he seemed to fumble with the metal clasps, shedding layers of heavy leather, letting them fall to the ground. Even his coat, which was normally at least immaculately folded, was left crumpled. There was something almost sweet in the way he struggled to remove his black undershirt.

_Dial it back a bit, Caitlyn. He’s not ‘sweet’._

Now naked, he paused, staring at the bed; like he was waiting for permission. He didn’t manage to hide it as his brow furrowed.

“You can get into bed now, if you’d like.” She offered.

He remained still. He spoke so softly, she almost didn’t recognise the sound. “Promise you won’t leave.”

“I promise.” She replied, and in an instant felt the chains detach. She turned onto her back.

He climbed into bed beside her, and curled his limbs around her body. “Caitlyn, I’ve done things…” he whispered against her cheek.

She hushed him, running her hand over his black hair. “You can tell me in the morning.”

“I do love you.” He said faintly as he pressed her to him.

“I know.” She replied, letting her hand rest on his temple. “I know.”


	11. Different

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woah, it's been a really long time.
> 
> Sorry about that. Crazy shifts.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

### Chapter 45 – Different

#### Part 1 – Protocol Six-Four-Alpha

Fury had known how this was going to go down. He stood calmly in the centre of the room, as the Shield council raged around him. Each shadowed face masked bellowing outrage. “Hill. You can confirm everything.” Fury smiled.

“Yes, sir.” She nodded. “Every word of it. Loki has multiple spies within the council. He confessed it himself. Director Fury is within his jurisdiction.”

“There you go, lady and gentlemen. I have activated protocol six-four-alpha.” Fury turned as he spoke.

_"This is preposterous!"_ one council member growled _"You do not have the authority to disband the council!”_

“Actually, I do.” Fury replied. “This is really more of a courtesy-call on my part.”

_“Director Fury!”_ The council member protested. _“You will be court-marshalled after this resolves! Dishonourably discharged!”_

Fury laughed at that. “Well, that’s a hell of a lot better than the state I’m in now, so you just go ahead.”

The shadows shifted, grumbling amongst themselves.

_“Director.”_ The council-woman spoke. _“Six-four-alpha is from the fifties! It is a relic that should have been removed from Shield decades ago…”_

“So am I.” Fury replied.

_“Six-four-alpha has no relevance here.”_ The woman persisted. _“It was written to allow the council to remove communists from positions of power…”_

_“And Loki is hardly a communist!”_ another spluttered.

“Agent Hill.” Fury calmly turned. “Do we have evidence that Loki is _not_ a communist?”

“No, sir.” She replied. “In fact, in Brussels he stated to the parliament _‘You are all equal beneath a God.’_. Sir.”

“There you go. Sounds like a communist to me.” Fury shrugged. “My field was never in political science, so I’ll let you sort that out amongst yourselves. In the meantime, I’ve got a war to win.”

The muttering dissent became a deafening roar. Then Fury flipped the switch, and the screens went black and silent.

“Hill, when they hang me for this, you get as clear as you can.” He sighed.

“No way in hell, sir.” Hill smiled back at him. “I’ll be by your side when you get that medal.”

He shook his head, holding back laughter. “Anyone tell you you’re funny, Hill?”

“Not if they know me, sir.” She grinned.

He stared at the floor, trying to give her an out. “You know, Maria, no-one’s forcing you to stay. You say the word, and you’re clear of this. I’m not letting you lose more than you already have.” When he looked up, she was glaring at him.

“Sir, if you don’t have me, you’ll lose. That is a fact. I’m not about to let that happen.” She didn’t blink once as she spoke. “I’m going to bring the son of a bitch down.”

“Alright, Hill.” He smiled. “What’s our next move? Come on, you’ll be in my shoes one day soon. What now?”

She paused, hand tracing the cast on her arm. “Cut down the teams on the helicarrier to a skeleton crew; we don’t need any more leaks. Bring in the Captain and Black Widow.” She winced as her fingers peeled back the plaster. “Find the last location of the tracer; we can coordinate that with Selvig’s team. And…” the material crumbled in her hand. “…and review everything we have on _her_. If Loki has a weak-point, she’s it.”  
 

#### Part 2 – Baldur the Pure

As much as it pained Frigga, she knew she could not go to him. With her outbursts earlier, she was sure that if she saw him again, it would be the end of her resolve. The vision of his fall; it had been enough to make her scream. He was only trying to protect her, and it might yet cost him his life…

_Heimdall, what a fool you are._

“My Queen.” A voice spoke, as she caught a glimpse of sky blue robes.

“Lord Baldur. You startled me.” She quickly wiped her face dry, before turning to face him.

“Apologies, my Queen.” Baldur bent his head low, ice-blond locks obscuring his features. “If I may ask; why have you come to my chapel, if not to seek my guidance?”

There was something stirring beneath the surface of the man; something she knew better than to trust.

“I come to give thanks to the Norns.” She gave a weak smile. “I offered them a ring, in return for the vision which saved Heimdall.”

“Ah.” Baldur nodded, turning his stern features over to the sacred plinth. For one so young, his face often appeared unnaturally focused. “The Norns will be pleased.” He noted, examining the stone. “They do prefer Quartz, my Queen.”

She felt her nails press into her palm. It was not many that would have the gall to correct her. “But it is _Agate_ which is for healing.”

“Am I mistaken, my Queen? I believed you to be giving thanks, not to seek aid in healing.” He strode towards his podium, ensuring that everything was in proper place. “And we do not ascribe to the ways of _old magic_. Such things are a sin against the Norns, are they not, my Queen?”

“Quite so, Lord Baldur. I count myself blessed to receive their visions, and I believe that should they desire me to save Heimdall, I will honour that wish. Even if that means the use of little trinkets.” She smiled to him.

“Very wise, my Queen. Very wise.” He replied. “Trinkets, indeed… But remember, that it was the Jotuns who used such foul magics, and brought upon them the wrath of the Norns.”

“Is that so?” she asked, trying not to let her disbelief show. “I have never heard anything of the sort before.”

“Yes, it is quite clear.” He nodded. “I believe it is the same foul Jotun magic which now plagues your son Loki. For it was after he encountered the Frost Giants that his treachery began; and how else, but through Jotun magic, could one have escaped death in the coldness between the stars?”

Frigga shook. He could not possibly know of Loki’s parentage. Surely that had been kept only between the family, warriors three, and Heimdall…no. He could not know.

“Fear not, my Queen; we shall root out the source and remove it.” Baldur continued, studying her. “There are ways of dealing with Jotun poison.”

_Jotun poison?_ Her thoughts turned to the magic she had used; had it truly come from Mistress Hel? It was entirely possible that it was of the Jotun. “Lord Baldur, we used to speak of magic as a simple tool, its nature determined by its use…” she tried her question in a delicate manner “Is there no way that Jotun magic could be used for good?”

He laughed loudly, then stood before her. “My Queen. The only _good_ thing about the Jotun is that they bleed.”  
 

#### Part 3 – Different

“Loki.”

He smiled in the dark. Hearing Caitlyn speak his name was by far his favourite way to wake. He held her tighter against his chest, as though trying to force her through his skin.

She struggled against him. “Loki. Let go.”

He rolled them over, until he was lying upon her warm flesh, the silk so soft between them.

“Loki!” she beat weakly against him, the force of her fists dampened by his weight upon her. “Loki, I need to pee.”

“Piss the bed for all I care.” He grumbled, stretching against her. His arms found the length of hers, and lazily pinned her down.

“You’re…really…fucking…heavy.” She struggled to breathe.

He sighed, and rolled onto his side, casting a simple spell to give a little light to the room. “Perhaps you are weak.” He replied, drawing her in, legs coiling around hers.

“I need to pee, Loki. I’m serious.” She muttered.

“Are you? How terrible.” he dipped his head into the crook of her neck. How he loved the way his lips still made her tremble. “Did you dream of me?” He enjoyed her telling silence. 

“Oh, you did…” he let one hand trail down her body. “Perhaps I will find you wet for more than one reason.” He smirked.

“You are such a fucking pervert.” She retorted. “You know, there are millions of people who spent their whole lives wondering if there was alien life out there in the galaxy, how we might work together to make the universe a better place. It’s so comforting to be able to report that they just want to play kinky sex-games and watch us pee.”

Loki chuckled, and nipped at her shoulder. “I am sure the human race will be thrilled.”

She stared at him, her lips half-lifted into a smile.

“What?” he grinned.

“It’s just…that’s the second time that you’ve said _‘human’_ , and not _‘mortal’_.” Her brow furrowed. “I’m trying to work out what that means.”

“It means nothing.” He replied, twisting her hair around his finger. “I am simply falling prey to your ghastly vernacular.”

“ _Ghastly?_ ” she laughed. “Really?”

“Yes.” He climbed upon her once more, and kissed along her jaw. “I understand you enjoy being _‘one of the people’_ , darling, but you are so frightfully _common_.” He teased.

She giggled. “Stop it! Stop making me laugh!”

“No balance, or poise…” he drew his fingers slowly to her waist “…I doubt you can even sew.”

“I can, actually.” She retorted. “Strongest blanket-suture outside of a morgue.”

It was only now he saw her smile that he realised its rarity. And the sound of her laugh; when had he last heard such a thing? He desperately tried to cover the sadness…no, not sadness…guilt, perhaps.

“Well, I suppose that is something.” He replied, letting his fingers curl around the emerald silk at her waist.

“No!” she shrieked with laughter as he began to tickle her. “Stop it, you bastard!” she twisted and recoiled beneath him; failing to escape his merciless hands.

“There is no stopping me, my dear.” He kept the laugh as far from his voice as he could. “I am of unsound mind and _devious_ purpose.”

“You’re so fucking weird!” she gasped between bouts of laughter.

“Ah, then it is a small wonder that I enjoy _weird fucking_.” He grinned back at her.

“Weird like…” she began.

Curiosity got the better of him, and he relented. “Like what?”

“Like…” her voice became quieter, drawing him closer “… _‘suckling milk from a fecund woman, as her newborn cries’_.”

He fell back from her, and drew his hands through his hair. “Shit.”

“Shit indeed.” She replied.

He had hoped that his forgotten confession had been less perverse. “You ought to know I was obscenely drunk at the time…” he began to defend himself, but realised she had already left the room. Besides, denial was somewhat thwarted by his twitching manhood.

The idea of profaning the most sacred of all things…it gave him shivers.

_If Thor ever found out, he would never hear the end of it._

Loki shook himself. _It did not matter what Thor knew or did not know. Thor would be banished from his kingdom. And when the Almighty Thor Odinson begged an audience with King Loki, it would be on bended knees. Yes. The half-breed Jotun would rest his boots upon the back of the Son of Odin. And names would not be worth the dirt they were written in._

“Loki?” Caitlyn spoke with trepidation. “You’re looking a little…murder-ey.”

He quickly glanced to his hands, fearing that his Jotun form had once more found freedom; thankfully not. “Unpleasant thoughts make for an unpleasant countenance. I apologise.” He surveyed her in the soft light; she had never before looked more…regal. He smiled to her. “Pray, give me sweet words and kind thoughts.”

She took her place beside him on the bed, sitting a little too rigidly for his liking.

He crawled behind her, and wrapped his arms around hers. “Sing me something.”

“I don’t want to.” She replied, her voice no longer light as before.

No. Not this again. He sighed. “Why must you fight me, darling?” he buried his face deep into her hair, and felt her head turn in reply. “And do not say it is only because of right and wrong, for we both know that is not the case.”

If she were smart she would have lied to gain Loki’s favour. She would have suffered a small wrong for all that would be gained. That is what she should have done. That was what he would have done. But she…she was different.

“Do not say I could not make you happy; I know that I could. Not always, but often.” He stroked along her arms, in a way his mother used to do when he was upset. “Freedom, too. Not away from me, not separate, but I…I could take you anywhere you wished to go.” He smiled sadly, tracing her fingertips with his own. “This planet’s farthest reaches; or Asgard with its great golden halls and endless fields and the great lake which stretches to the edge of the nine; beyond, into frightening night…even there I would tread. Valkyries upon me, I would even return to Jotunheim!” He laughed to himself.

“Now.” She said calmly.

“What?” He had surely misheard. His mind had finally fallen victim to hysteria.

“Right now. Anywhere.” She moved to face him, her eyes pleading in fathomless depths. “Anywhere in the universe. I’ll go with you. I promise. But we go now, and we don’t come back.”

“I…” he cursed his leaden longue. “…I cannot.”

She turned away, began to pull at his hands.

“Not yet. Soon, but not yet.” He grasped at fleeting silk. “Caitlyn, I cannot…”

She moved forward, so they were barely touching.

“You do not understand!” he yelled, grasping her by the arm and pulling her against him. He steadied himself, let healing magic remove the swelling beneath his fingertips. “Caitlyn. Please.” He gently turned her face to him. “Things…are more complicated than you can imagine.”

She nestled against his chest, looking up into his eyes. “Then tell me, Loki. Let me understand.”

“I cannot.” He found himself drawing closer to her lips. “I promise, one day…”

“Then tell me this; would it make a difference?” Oh, the way she looked at him. “If this thing that you’re _so afraid of_ wasn’t looming over your shoulder, would any of this be different?” Such sadness lined her eyes. “Would you still have come here; killed my people; hurt my friends?”

“Why do you ask this?” he pulled her palm to his lips, and kissed her fragile hand.

For a while she was silent, her features frozen. Finally, she spoke. “You know, Loki; I hate it when you lie, but it’s worse when I wish you would.”

That hurt more than he had anticipated. “Caitlyn…I promise you; there will be a time when this will not come between us.” He drew his hand against her cheek. “But you must wait.” He placed a gentle kiss upon her lips. “I will restore all that has been destroyed.”

She stared at him as though he were mad. She made his will break. And then she sang.

> _“Oh, yes, I’m the great pretender  
>  Pretending that I’m doing well.”_

“Stop it.” He implored, running his hands over his scalp, trying to dig out the thoughts that crawled like worms.

> _“My need is such; I pretend too much.  
>  I’m lonely, but no-one can tell.”_

Each sound seemed to split him down to the rotten core. “Stop it, Caitlyn!” he yelled. “Stop it, damn you!” He pushed her from him, down to the floor. “Leave!” he fought with gritted teeth. “Leave me!”

It was only once he heard the door close behind her, he allowed himself to weep.

She could hurt him, and now she knew it.

He should kill her. He should kill her before she could hurt him again. That is what he should have done; what he would have done. But now…he was different.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear, things will actually start happening very soon.
> 
> As an apology for my slowness, have the title for the next chapter: "The Song of the End of the World"


	12. The Song of the End of the World

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: fairly violent chapter. General nastiness going on.
> 
> You probably won't be too happy with Loki by the end of it.

### Chapter 46 – The Song of the End of the World

#### Part 1 – The Song of the End of the World 

He drifted, between light and dark. He drifted for seconds, or days, he could not imagine which. He could no longer imagine. He could no longer hear any of them. He had thought he drifted alone, but then a noise stirred him, and a voice spoke.

_‘Can you hear it, Heimdall?’_ the voice wavered. _‘Can you hear it?’_

He fought against the darkness, pushing farther from Hel’s calls. _He must return. He must protect the Queen._

_‘Listen, Heimdall.’_ The sweet voice implored him. _‘The song that changes nature; can you hear it? The song that makes the strong weak; the weak unstoppable. The song that makes gods and kings fall. The song that makes traitors of heroes, and heroes of madmen. The song of the final gift…’_

No. The Queen. _He must protect his Queen._

But he did hear it, calling faintly; the sound like being enfolded in a warm embrace.

_‘Those who sing it do so with glee. Those who hear it, despair.’_

If only he could stay a little longer; that he might know of its nature. The core of its beauty.

It sounded like her breath…

_‘Can you hear it, Heimdall?’_ Hel beckoned him into the dark. _‘I want to know if you can hear it.’_

He could no longer fight, only drift. Down. Into the black; the dark that was waiting for him.

_‘Can you hear it, Heimdall?’_ she asked once more.

“Yes.” He spoke without air.

_‘What do you hear?’_ she pressed _‘What words?’_

“…No words.” He replied. “There are no words.”

_‘Next time…’_ Hel said softly _‘…there will be.’_

Then there was no sound, no dark. Only pain and light. He felt such agony over every inch of his skin, deep into the bones beneath. Slowly, a ringing began, grinding within his head; noise had returned, but nothing like that sound.

“Heimdall?” Someone called his name.

_‘Heimdall…’_

“Heimdall?”

_‘…traitor.’_  
 

#### Part 2 – Not Alright

“Just tell me, Tony.” Killian sighed. “Look, we’ve been at this all night, and I’d really like to get some sleep. Savin’s got an appointment at the dentist…”

Savin nodded once, poised with the bucket.

“…grinds his teeth. Don’t you, Savin?” Killian had his hand ready on the tilt-lever. “You tell me what I want to know, and we can call it a night. What do you say, Tony?”

Tony groaned, coughing out blood-stained water. It slowly slithered down his greying face, and pooled on the ground. He drew in rattling breaths, and coughed some more.

“I’m not hearing an answer, Tony.” Killian felt his fingers tense with excitement. “Compartment mechanism; that’s all I want. We both know you like to brag, so just go ahead. I don’t mind.” He laughed. “Hell, I’ll say it; you’re a smart guy! A genius! But smart guys know when they’ve been beat. Smart guys know when they should bend, not break. Because, believe me, Tony; I will break you.”

Tony rasped and growled like a dying dog. “Go…to hell.” He hissed.

Without hesitation, Killian tilted back the bed; Savin poised with the bucket. “I’m not doing this because I like it, Tony.” He told him, unable to keep from grinning.

Tony thrashed, bubbles rising to the surface as he fought.

“Boss, can we switch?” Savin asked, moving to keep Tony’s head under. Water crashed from the bucket, all across the floor.

“What, do you think I pay you to _watch me_ do all the work?” Killian glared.

“Sorry, boss.” Savin replied, being showered with another wave.

The bubbles rose slower, the thrashing eased.

“Up.” Killian ordered.

Tony’s head emerged from the half-frozen water, violently coughing out a few mouthfuls.

“You’re getting weaker, Tony.” Killian taunted him, making sure to keep his distance from the slick mess on the floor. His suit was dry-clean-only.

Tony groaned; the pain burning through his lungs must have been excruciating.

“There’s no _‘out’_ to this, Tony. No-one’s coming to save you.” Just as the words left his lips, he heard the commotion outside.

“You…” Tony’s voice creaked. “…you’re not smart, are you…?!” he spluttered a laugh.

More commotion racketed outside the door. There it was; her voice. That bitch.

“Down.” Killian said, grasping the handle and pulling with vigour. “We’ll see who’s smart.”

Once more, Tony’s head was plunged deep into the icy water. A roar was muffled by bubbling breath. His body tore against the restraints, in a futile attempt at fight or flight; but by now his adrenaline stores would be nearly empty. Sure enough, he was getting weaker.

“Boss…” Savin spoke.

“Leave him in.”

“But, Boss…” Savin persisted. “It’s a lot longer than last time.”

“Well, last time it didn’t work. Did it?!” Killian hissed.

“Boss, he’s stopped moving.”

“So what?” Killian’s ears strained to hear the conversation outside; it seemed like there was someone else there.

“Not sure he’s faking it…”

Killian glanced back. “…alright, pull him up.”

For a very cold moment, Tony lay completely still. Then out came a hefty glug of water, and a loud croaking sound.

“Has he spoken yet?” Loki said from behind Killian’s back.

“Aww, man!” Savin grinned. “That gets me, every fucking time.”

Killian turned, and gave a bow. “Not yet, King, but it won’t be long now.” he replied.

Tony kept making that sharp croak, gasping, spluttering.

“You drown him?” Loki asked, peering down with a look of disgust. “Does he suffer?”

“Yeah.” Savin spoke without hesitation.

It was times like this that Killian really wanted to hit him.

“Good.” Loki stated. “Are you ready to be of use, Stark?”

“Fuck. You.” Tony groaned.

Loki glared; Killian could see his hand ball into a fist. In something less than a moment, he was standing over Stark, and a hideous cracking filled the room.

Tony cried out, voice harshened by drowning; whatever words he had meant to say next were lost. The blow to his ribs left him gasping and wincing.

Without a second glance, Loki turned from him. “Mr Killian, I require your presence.” He spoke coolly, staring at his knuckles and slowly flexing his fingers.

Killian knew that look; that was savouring the hit. “If you need me, my King…” he began, only to find Loki had vanished. “Savin. Coke.” He ordered.

“Boss.” Savin replied, tossing him a small packet. “Boss, can I…?”

“No. You can’t take a break.” Killian snapped. “If you screw this up, I’ll kill you.”

Savin sighed to himself. “Yes, boss.”

Killian smiled at the sound of thrashing and bubbles as he turned and left the room. Unfortunately, the bitch’s unwelcome presence stood on the other side of the door. He smiled to her, saying nothing.

Two men with assault rifles restrained her as she jolted towards him.

“What the hell have you done?” she asked; her face grew pale as she heard Stark. “Tony!” she shouted to him. “Tony! It’s going to be alright!”

Killian caught sight of a few blue bruises across her arms, and that made him so happy. “You know…it’s not gonna be alright.” He grinned as he spoke, and chuckled to himself as he walked away.  
 

#### Part 3 – Wicked Thoughts

Loki sunk back into his cheaply bought bliss. Easily acquired, quickly spent. Oh so suddenly sullied by dark thoughts. And then he sank deeper; drowning in the pitch of night. _More._ His thoughts cried. _More will fix this. Find more. Find another. Find something to feed the hollow._

“Go.” He barked, quickly pulling on his shirt.

The creature started; unsteady hands faltered at the doorknob.

He moved quickly to the door, glaring down. “If you tell anyone of this, I will kill you.” He punctuated the threat with his fist against the wall; to be sure his message was understood. A long stare, then he turned to lift his coat. Catching sight of his face in the filthy mirror, he straightened his collar and pushed back his wayward hair. He did not clothe his face in illusion; why should he? Why bother? He deserved their fear. He deserved to use it and draw it so thick it could coat his very skin. They owed him that.

The subservient man was quick to bow as Loki approached.

“You displeased me, Mr Killian. I wished you here sooner.” Loki spat.

Killian watched, waited for Loki to sit, before following. At the very least he had learned good manners. “My apologies, my King; civilian transport is a little slower than you’re used to.”

Loki grunted a reply, and drank deep from the strongest drink this fetid hole of humanity saw fit to provide.

“If you would let me…my king…” Killian produced another pouch of that powdered substance.

Loki nodded.

“I don’t mean to cause offence, understand…” he spoke, preparing the powder into lines “…I only want to make myself useful to you…if there’s a tough decision to be made, and you don’t want to make it…” he drew a paper note and rolled it “…I could help you with that.”

“Ah, Mr Killian, your _usefulness_ knows no bounds.” Loki replied, taking the paper in hand, and allowing it to dance around his fingertips. He drew in the powder, feeling it slowly seep into his veins; becoming a power, a pulse, a surge of ecstasy. He laughed loudly, sighing, tears budding across his eyelids. “I cannot be rid of her! I…I cannot be rid of her…I, who sought out the accursed bitch in the first place!” He grinned. “Oh, but she is wonderful. And cruel.”

“My king…I could _get rid_ of your problem. If you wanted.” The white suit he wore was beginning to attract the dirt of the place.

“You could?!” Loki laughed again. “No, Mr Killian. You could not.”

“I assure you, my King…”

“King! Hah! Such a thing. She told me they suffer…” another giggle. Loki lay himself down on the filthy couch, deciding that flat was usually for the best, but found his legs restless. “I only suffer for what I lack; gaining of which is a matter of kingliness.” He jumped upright. “You!” he startled a passing servant. “You. Bring all of the drink, and all of yours who will come. Tell them they will be paid handsomely for their time.” Oh, such fun, such wicked fun.

The servant wench nodded, unable to speak in his presence, and scuttled away.

“What I am trying to tell you, King, is that I can remove your problem. I can fix it. Just say the word.”

“The word? What word would that be?” Loki sneered. “What word do you think so powerful to excuse you from blame? Oh, I have no doubt in your abilities, Mr Killian. No doubt. But you are no God. No…”

The first of the serving wenches arrived, bringing drink that shimmered gold. She stared at him with the wide eyes of a stalked doe.

“Drink it, enough to numb memory.” He ordered softly. “It will aid your obedience.” He grinned to see her faltering acquiescence. “Drink it, then take off your dress.” His head snapped to the side. “Do I disappoint you, Killian? Do you think me the snarling wolf, so suddenly brought to heel? Oh, I am nothing of the sort. But I know what to keep and what to kill.”

“I can only apologise, my King. I didn’t mean to…” The man could not display the fear he claimed.

“Oh, but you _did_ , Mr Killian!” Loki laughed. “That is the humour in it! You think to turn the mind of the god of lies?! I do not care for your purpose or your pleasure. I use you because you are of use, but know this; if you disobey my wishes, accident or no, you will be worth less to me than the worm which gorges on decaying flesh. I will not hesitate to feel you splatter beneath my boot.”

There; only a moment of it, but it was fear.

_So satisfying._

Two more servants arrived, spurred by the promise of something to gain. They would have to earn it.

“Drink!” Loki laughed. “Drink, and be glad that your King sees fit to bless this decaying pit of humanity.”

Another; a man still in the throes of youth, a boy really, but with years enough for stubble to sprout from his chin. He looked his King in the eye, and back to his feet. That was ambition.

Loki grinned. So many thoughts. So many wicked thoughts.

And he would not think of her.

No, he would not think of her at all.  
   
 

#### Part 4 – A Crash

Savin sighed to himself. “Come on, Tony. Just tell me, and then we can both get some sleep.”

Tony barely responded; he couldn’t suck in enough breath to give an answer.

What now? Did he keep going, or give the guy some time to rest up? He knew what he’d like to do, and Killian would give him hell for it. But, shit! He wasn’t gonna just kill the guy!

Savin knew she was still outside, too. The Doc wouldn’t move, not without a fight. And that wouldn’t have bothered him before, but there was just something…something, when she sang to Tony through the blast-door…he thought about his little sis…and something…

He could hear her now.

Something didn’t seem right.

_Shit._

He set the bucket down.

“Hey, I’m gonna go get something to eat. You want anything?” he offered.

The day before, or even an hour ago, Tony would have cussed him out. Now he just lay there, and slowly shook his head.

“Alright.”

He didn’t look at her when he passed her. Like that time when he’d melted his sis’s doll with a magnifying glass on a hot summer day, and she’d cried so bad, and his dad gave him hell…

_Shit._

He needed a break. He needed coffee.

He never thought about his little sis. Well, that was a lie; he always thought about her, somewhere way down deep, but not like this. Not at work.

Savin swallowed the scalding coffee, trying desperately to think of anything else. He downed the cup, and pulled out a stick of gum.

_‘Why would you do that?’_

He crashed his head against the concrete wall, and felt the serum burn as it patched him up. The wall wasn’t so lucky; he had left a crumbling dent.

After a while, he grabbed a pack of some microwave crap and ate it cold; feeling every bite slip down his throat.

He took far longer than he should have. Killian would know. He always knew. But right now, something was making him more scared to face her than his boss. He sighed again. He needed a break; maybe Florida? He missed the sun, and the fresh OJ… he could even hit up Disneyworld.

He tried to imagine Killian on a rollercoaster, and the thought made him laugh out loud.

Then he thought about Killian and King Loki both on a coaster, glaring at him, and he nearly pissed himself.

Ok, so it was settled; when Killian got back, he’d ask for some time off, book a flight to Florida, and maybe work on his tan. He could even just drive around for a while. He didn’t like being stuck underground, which felt too much like bad memories and smelt like dead air. He’d rather have a warm breeze and candy-floss and, hell, even the sight of old people in swimsuits at this point. That was another thing; his shades. He always carried them on him, but lately it seemed like he’d never got chance to put them on. All this underground crap and travelling at night…

His wandering mind was shaken by a violent crash, which echoed through the hallways.

_You have to protect her. You can’t let her get hurt again._  
 


	13. Worse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, warning, Loki is still feeling evil. Part 2 gets really freaking creepy.

### Chapter 47 – Worse

#### Part 1 – Smoke

“What happened?” Savin asked one of the guards who blocked his path. “Are you fucking listening to me?!”

The guard stood silent and still, glowing blue eyes staring forwards.

“Freaking zombies.” Savin muttered, pushing past the guard. He didn’t know where he was going. He didn’t know what he’d do when he got there. He just knew he had to go.

The door to Stark’s room was still shut, guarded by two more of the zombie guys, but she was gone.

“What happened?! Where did she go?!”

One of them stepped aside to let him in.

“No. The girl. Where did she go?” Nothing. “Your boss is gonna be really pissed at you if she’s run off. Or hurt. Can you fucking hear me?!” He glanced down to where the corridor forked; one side to the stairwell, another further round to R+D. Shit. It could have been either. “Hey Stark!” he approached him. “Stark! You know what happened?”

Stark turned his head slowly and mumbled something.

“What?”

His mouth opened sluggishly and he wheezed out only one word. _“Pepper.”_

Shit. He wasn’t gonna be much help. Savin ran from the room, and mentally flipped a coin. It was only once he was about ten feet away that he noticed the smoke and dying lights. Water seeped across the floor; the sprinklers had activated. A weight lifted from his chest when he saw she was alive. Soaked to the skin, staggering through the half-light, but alive.

“He doesn’t have a pulse!” she shouted over the sound of the sprinklers.

“You need to get out of here, Doc. It’s not safe!” He saw something flashing in the corner. Savin wasn’t sure of a lot of things, but something about water and electricity seemed pretty familiar. He put his hand on her shoulder, gripped tight. “You’ve gotta go!”

“Get off me!” she yelled, startling him. She struggled against him, but he wrapped his arms around her and dragged her from the room. “Eric!”

He froze. He had forgotten she knew his name.

“Eric, please.” She stared at him, eyes wide, skin dripping. Her hair clung to her neck like armour. “That man is going to die if I don’t help him. I don’t know what’s wrong with him. But I do know that if I don’t do something, his death is going to be on me.” There was something in her that terrified him. “So you can bet that I’m going to do something stupid and reckless, and I’m going to do it alone, unless you help me.”

His boss, and Loki, and everything else…

“Eric. Help me.”

He closed his eyes, and brushed the water from his face, groaning loudly. _Shit._ “Stay here.”

“Thank you!” she called as he re-entered the room.

“Yeah.” He shook his head, pulling the man from the debris with ease. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted something; a boot. “Hang on. There’s more in here.” He told her as he dumped the body into the corridor.

The water was rising higher now; the sprinklers hadn’t shut off, and dark water was soaking into his shoes. At the other end of the boot, a man was trapped under some kind of metal casing; bubbles rose from his face. Drowning. _Shit._

“Come on buddy.” Savin groaned, heaving the heavy equipment off the guy. “Can you hear me? Can you get up?”

He didn’t answer. The bubbles had stopped.

He dropped the casing, pulling the guy out with both hands. A heavy steel edge caught Savin’s leg, and he yelled out. It would be alright, though. He pulled the unconscious guy onto his shoulder as the Extremis serum re-grew his left foot.

He spotted another; behind the table. Face all blackened and fucked-up. That’s what you look like when you’re on the wrong end of an IED. Wasn’t moving. _Hell, why not, though?_ He grabbed him by the belt and dragged him out too.

“Guy’s been drowning.” Savin noted as he dropped the body next to her. “Fuck knows.” He commented on the other.

“Anyone else?” she asked, pounding away on the first dude’s chest.

“Fuck if I know.” He shrugged. “Can’t see for shit in there.”

“Is there anyone else in there, Eric?” she stared at him.

He groaned, stepped back in, looked around in the pitch black, got soaked. “No!” he shouted to her. He jumped up, grabbed one of the sprinklers, and melted it in his hand. Once he got out, he shook the water off him like a dog.

She was still there, blowing into the first guy’s mouth.

Loki wouldn’t like that.

“Right, Eric. Do you know CPR?” she asked, and Savin swore he heard something crack under her hands.

He looked over at the other two guys. “Uh, yeah…” He sure as shit didn’t know how to fix any of that.

“You take over here.” She ordered him. “Now, Eric.”

They awkwardly swapped places in the hallway. He held his hands over the chest…what the fuck was he doing? He jumped when she pressed his hands down.

“It doesn’t matter if you break something.” She told him as they pushed. “They can’t get _more_ dead. Just keep going.” Then she left him to it, moving to the other two.

His hands shook as he pounded on the chest. And he couldn’t…he couldn’t figure out how to breathe right…”I, uh…I’ve done this before. Once.” He forced out a shallow breath. “It didn’t work out.” He turned to see her breathing into the drowned man.

She drove her arms into the chest, much deeper than he had dared, and water started to trickle from the man’s lips.

A cough.

She pushed him onto his side, then went to the next. “Right, no pulse. Not breathing…How’s yours?”

Savin looked down. “Doesn’t look much different, Doc.”

“Right. Okay.” She shut her eyes, brow furrowed. “There should be a defibrillator in Tony’s room. You know what it looks like?”

“Uh, nope.” What was he meant to do now? He was sure he’d broken a rib or two. Was it even helping at this point?

Drowning guy groaned and twitched, coughing out grey water.

“That doesn’t matter. It’s not like I can get in anyway.” She looked for a while into the hole that used to be part of a jaw. “It’ll be a large box, probably green.” She started pressing on what remained of the chest. “I need you to bring it, along with any drugs you can find. Just grab anything. Don’t stop to read the label.”

“But, what about…?”

“I can do a lot of things, Eric, but I can’t start a man’s heart by willpower alone. That’s all you need to think about. I’ll…” her head moved as she looked between the bodies. “…I’ll handle this. Go.” 

 

#### Part 2 – The Deviant

Steve tried to keep his eyes down, to concentrate on the mission, but it was hard as heck in this place. He had to go, he knew he had to. The agents left were few and far-between, and he wasn’t about to put Natasha in danger again, so it had to be him. Yeah, it had to be him. But, honestly? He had really been hoping that Loki really had been holding out in the _‘bakery’_ upstairs.

Steve had been raised proper, never cussed at a lady…sure, every once in a while he’d had adult thoughts about a few, but never had he imagined anything like this. Hell, what he’d done with Natasha had made him think good and hard about what he’d been told in Sunday School; but this… this was the last days of Sodom. Even looking down, even trying to ignore the sounds, he could still smell that mix of sweat, sex, and blood…Good God, why was there blood?

“Captain Rodgers, what an unexpected surprise!” Loki grinned, placing his arm around Steve’s shoulders. “Have you come to play?”

Steve stood stiffly; barely breathing until Loki removed his hand.

“No? Such a pity.” The demigod laughed; in an instant he was clothed, drink in hand. “Relax, Captain! I jest! But you are welcome to anything that takes your fancy.” He offered him a glass of something clear and damn strong. “Let it not be said that I am a poor host.” His regular leather coat exchanged for a green one, trimmed with black fur. That was a mistake in this place.

Steve didn’t make a move. The weight of the shield pressing into his back gave him little comfort.

“Oh, come now!” Loki pressed. “I am hardly going to poison you! Not when there are so many more _entertaining_ ways to kill…What? Did you mother warn you against taking drinks offered by strangers?” There was a mad glint to his eye, and he smiled with too many teeth for Steve’s liking.

Out of the corner of his eye, Steve caught sight of a lady and man in a very unusual position, impossible even…then he realised that the other wasn’t a man…and she wasn’t a lady. He immediately turned his head away, and heard the demigod chuckle loudly.

“Perhaps you ought to look, Captain. It might broaden your horizons.” He moved back to recline on a stained couch. “And with so many years out of this world, who knows how many horizons you have yet to conquer?”

A half-naked and fully drunk woman dropped to her knees in front of Loki, and began to fondle with his belt.

“Not now.” He patted her on the head. “But, if it please you, offer my guest your hospitality.”

“That’s enough, Loki.” Steve said, holding his ground.

“Oh, I only wish it were.” Loki sighed, stretching in an oddly feline fashion. “What do you think of me, Captain?”

“I think you’re a deviant.” Steve answered. “And I think you need to let these people go, or you and me are going to have words.”

“ _Let_ them go?!” Loki laughed. “Oh, dear, dear Captain Rodgers…they do not want to go! And besides, they are well compensated for their hardships.”

A loud shriek filled his ears, but it quickly became a moan of ecstasy. A lady’s moan. A lady moaning as she was getting whipped and violated by another lady.

Steve flushed bright red and glanced to his shoes.

“Oh…” Loki smirked. “I think you enjoyed that.”

“Listen, Loki. I didn’t come here to check up on your perversions.”

Loki laughed. He liked the word _‘perversions’_ , apparently. “Then why in the nine did you come?!” he beckoned one of the ladies, whispered something into her ear, and smiled as she nodded and left. Turning back to Steve, he patted the couch next to him. “At least take a seat, Captain. It unnerves me to see you in such discomfort.”

“No it doesn’t.”

He laughed again. “No, it doesn’t. But it does make me out to be a poor host. And after all, what has a man if not his reputation?”

Steve raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, I know, I know…but this too is a form of reputation. This says; oh, the king must not be a monster. This king wants for us to have pleasure. Without limits. Without restriction. He wants us to have love…” Loki’s speech seemed to break off there, and with a loud breath, his smile turned darker. “Captain. I am asking now. It will not be long before I threaten. You do not want me to threaten.”

_Come on, Steve. You’re on a mission. Natasha will forgive you. Heck, she’s probably seen worse than this!_ He didn’t like that. He didn’t like any of this. It didn’t seem right or decent…but he did as he was told, and sat down next to Loki. It was as far as he could get from the deviant, nearly falling off the edge of the couch, but he sat there. “If you try anything…”

“Oh, my dear Captain, I have no idea what you mean.” Loki sniggered. “Have you ever tried cocaine? No? I myself am rather beginning to enjoy it. It is a crude potion, but is rather effective!”

“No.” Steve firmly replied to the offer.

“Such a pity…” Loki said, inhaling up a line of powder. “Now, shall _I_ tell you why you are here? Since you seem rather distracted.” Some of the dust had fallen on the black fur trim of his coat, but in a wave of his hand it vanished. “Firstly: you are here because I am here. For the time being I am the centre of your little universe, wish as you might for it not to be the case. The only way that changes is if I decide to leave this realm. This is the second: you are here to make me leave. Well, as you can see, I have no intention of leaving any time soon! And I fear that with your resources sorely depleted, you are no match for me. If you are no match, then why should you be here? This brings us on to the third point: you think that you will find my _weakness_. Oh, perhaps not you, dear Captain. It is not unkind to say that you have little aptitude for games of the mind. No, my simple little puppet, someone holds your strings. I strongly suspect they also watch. Is that correct?”

He couldn’t speak.

“Answer me! Is that correct?!”

Loki’s voice startled the revellers, who suddenly seemed a lot less than willing.

“Yes.” Steve muttered.

“Yes.” He hissed. “My King.” He took a moment to calm himself, pushing back his black hair. Then he smiled in the worst way. “Maria? Is she watching? Oh, I would wager that she is. Captain, I would like to show you something. Ensure that she sees it. I would hate for her to miss this. In fact, reach her on your phone. I wish to speak with her.”

“I’m not going to do that.” Steve said calmly.

“You will do so…”

Steve’s phone rang.

_‘Put me on with him.’_ Agent Hill ordered, and Steve followed orders.

Loki chuckled. “So good of you to call, Maria. I was afraid we had lost touch. It is so hard to find you these days.” He gave a nod to the crowd. “Only a demonstration, Maria.” He paused, holding the phone to his chest. “My dear Captain, this may offend you. I suggest you look away, and think of more pleasant things.”

His leg had started twitching; he drove his fist against it to keep it still.

“No? Alright, I did warn you.” Loki gave a mock sigh, shaking his head. With a wave of his hand, the whole room spun. “Close your eyes if you feel dizzy.”

He did, as a matter of fact, but there was no way he’d shut his eyes for a second next to Loki. “What are you doing?” he asked, staring. The far end of the room had changed into somewhere grey and plain.

He held a finger to his lips, and raised the phone. “Well, Maria, do you recognise it?” he paused. “Yes…it is a Shield safe-house. And I believe you know exactly which one.”

The woman that Loki had whispered to walked onto the little stage. Her face suddenly changed to someone darker, younger. Too young.

Loki laughed.

No. It couldn’t be. A second Loki walked up behind the girl, and drew a knife to her throat. And he smiled. He smiled as he ran the knife down her breast. He smiled as she cried. He smiled as she screamed.

“You stop it, Loki! Just stop it!” Steve shouted, unable to contain his rage. “You stop this sick game, right now!”

“Sit STILL Captain Rodgers!” Loki hissed, and waited, and smiled just like his projection. “We have only just begun. You see, Maria, I won’t kill her. Not so soon. I made a promise to you, did I not?”

Steve felt bile rise in his throat. He couldn’t look anymore.

“There are ways to make her bleed for days on end.” Loki hummed into the phone. “After all, there are some parts of young women that are not adapt to deal with Gods.”

He couldn’t sit still any longer. He rose, and moved as firmly as he could. With one hand he pinned Loki still, the other raised in a fist. “You stop it now, you little shit.” Steve shook.

Loki vanished from beneath his hand. “Why, Captain…” he began, as Steve turned to face him. “I had no idea you were capable of such crass language.” And he laughed, stepping aside as Steve swung at him. “I like this upon you, this…rage.” He chuckled. “Perhaps this…”

With a wave, the girl’s face changed. Now it was Natasha who was crying out, screaming, slowly bleeding as Loki fucked her.

Steve dove forwards and tackled Loki to the ground. “What the hell is wrong with you?!”

“Go on then. Hit me.” Loki sneered, twisting beneath him. “Hit me. I know you want to.” He hissed. “Or maybe you want me to make a little visit to Ms Romanova. I can show her what a real fuck feels like. Oh, I doubt you would want her after I scar that pretty cunt of hers.”

Steve didn’t expect his fist to make contact, but the feeling was damn satisfying.

The look of surprise on Loki’s face made it even better. He groaned, and blood began to trickle from his nose. And then…he vanished.

Steve glanced up; the room had turned back the way it was, with no sign of blood on the woman in the centre of it all. He picked his phone up from the floor. “He’s gone…I think.”

_“Good.”_ Agent Hill replied. _“That was one hell of a punch, soldier.”_

“Yes, Mam.” Steve nodded. “Can I leave now, Mam?” he shuddered at the sound of moaning. “Please?”  
 

#### Part 3 – Worse

“Heimdall?” Thor beseeched the crumpled figure. “Do you hear me, my friend?”

“I hear you.” His voice gave its deep reply. He tried to lift himself from the healing plinth, but failed to find his balance.

“Not so soon.” Thor smiled, lifting him back into place. “No more battles today. If you fall again, I may not be there to catch you.”

Heimdall sighed, resigning himself to collapse back onto the golden surface. It unnerved Thor to see him like this; so close to mortal that one might forget otherwise.

“Ask him.” Sif insisted from the doorway.

“Ask me what?” Heimdall replied, again making to rise.

Fandral stepped forward. “Was it Loki?” His hand was drawn across his sword, in preparation for battles that were yet to come. 

Thor turned to his friends, trying to mask his own hesitancy. “Leave him in peace. He has time enough to answer later. Sif, you should not even be in here.”

Fandral nodded. “Yes, Sif, this is no place for women.”

Sif glared back at him, her hand tensed on her knife, and then stormed out.

“One of us should probably make sure she refrains from injuring anyone.” Fandral observed. “Hogun.”

Hogun replied with a silent stare.

“Off you go, Hogun. There’s a good chap.” Fandral gave him a shove in the direction of the door.

Hogun’s eyes narrowed and he shook his head once, but nonetheless he went after Sif.

“What?” Fandral shrugged. “He has more gift with words than I.” 

“That is not something to be proud of, my friend.” Thor replied.

Heimdall groaned, trying once again to rise. 

“Stay still, Heimdall.” Thor smiled, pressing upon his shoulder. “Or shall I have to sit Mjolnir upon you?”

“I have…duties…I must…” he let out a sharp breath.

“Nonsense.” Thor snorted. “Volstagg is gone to fetch the finest ale, and Fandral and I shall keep your company.”

“I could keep your company better if I knew what had caused this illness.” Fandral muttered. “Jotun curses…” he silenced himself at Thor’s scowl.

Heimdall drew in breath. “It was not Loki.”

Fandral started. “Then who…?”

“I know not.” Heimdall replied bluntly.

“Oh.” Fandral frowned, and glanced to his feet.

Beside his better judgement, Thor smiled to himself. It was not Loki. He had hoped that much. “How fares he, Heimdall?” He finally dared to ask.

“He is…” Heimdall sighed. “…worse.”


	14. A Friend of Virtue

### Chapter 48 – A Friend of Virtue

#### Part 1 – The Wretched Prince

> _Oh, yes, I’m the great pretender_
> 
> _Pretending that I’m doing well._

Loki staggered through the corridors of his lair, wiping at the blood that dripped down his face. “Caitlyn!” he yelled. “Caitlyn, you cruel bitch!” Why wouldn’t that damned woman answer? “You whore without virtue!” Where was she? “Caitlyn!”

He could smell something in the air; like rain upon burnt villages. Something was wrong. What if she… Then he found her.

She lay crouched among bodies with the idiot man. “Alright, atropine.” She spoke, as though she spared not a thought for his suffering.

“Do you think you can ignore me, you cankered quim?!” he spat at her.

A crumpled creature who lay next to her began to make a crackling, hissing sound.

“Shit.” She moved to it. “Shit. Respiratory Distress.”

“How do you fix it?” the idiot man spoke.

Her hand touched the dying creature’s cheek. “I can’t.”

“Do you know where I have been?” Loki interrupted their tedious conversing. “I have been whoring.” He sneered at her. Surely this would provoke some sort of rise. “There was a fat-lipped cock-hungry wench who sucked me dry.” Still nothing. He grew irate. “She had far more to recommend her than you! More nobility in her seed-encrusted backside! I would rather lick her putrid hole than be forced to touch you.” Nothing! Still nothing! “You damned bitch!” He raised his hand. “You will look at me when I speak to you!” He swung for her and…nothing.

It was all nothing. Everything had fallen to grey frozen fog.

_“Now, now. What would your mother say?”_ the faceless woman mocked. _“…Loki of Asgard.”_

“You!” he hissed. “You, all of you, liars and whores!” He screamed as a sudden pain threatened to split his skull. He fell to his knees, clutching, trying to tear his head open.

_“Apologise.”_ The woman said in a voice like a frozen breeze.

“Never!” he hissed. “Never, you Valkyrian bitch!”

> _My need is such; I pretend too much._
> 
> _I’m lonely, but no-one can tell._

He heard it. In her voice. From her lips. It was worse than pain.

He heard it, and he began to weep.

_“I am no Valkyrie, Loki of Asgard!”_ The woman giggled. _“Oh, you do make me laugh!”_

He screamed in agony, but still she sang. Louder than sound. Closer than thought. “Please!” he sobbed. “I am sorry!”

The pain ended.

And still she sang.

“No. Please stop.” He heard the hollowness in his own voice. He felt the creeping cold. “Please. I beg you. I apologise for every ill I have done to you; in thought or deed. Just make it stop.”

_“Not to me.”_

“Then any creature! Is suffering not apology enough?!”

_“Suffering does not pay for suffering.”_

“Then how?!” he spat “By the nine, how?! Stop toying with me! Why do this…? Why bring me here if you are not to tell me plain?!”

The woman’s voice lilted in cruel laughter. _“Oh, I did not bring you here, Loki of Asgard! Oh, sweet little Jotun Prince…you forgot your body behind when you went to find her. You would forget your head were it not attached at the neck!”_

He lost the will to rise. “Please. Just...just make it stop.”

_“Oh dear. What have you become, Loki of Asgard?”_ she gave a mocking sigh. _“Pleading on your knees. Oh, this will not do. This will not do at all.”_ and with that, the singing stopped. _“Here. I shall give you your second gift. That will make the Jotun smile.”_

At her command, the fog rose in great pillars, finding flesh and form; the moments that he had lost.

Loki's memory-self lay bleeding on the floor, a splutter sent blood gushing from his mouth and nose.

_'Loki? Can you see me?'_ Caitlyn asked the wretched prince. _'How many fingers am I holding up?'_

The memory-self groaned, writhing slowly on the ground.

Caitlyn sighed, and dabbed at his face.

After a few moments of piteous groans, he seemed to focus. _'Are we friends at least?'_ the memory asked, with too much an air of hope for Loki's liking. _'I should very much like to have a friend. Please.'_

The way he pawed at her, like some kind of mongrel pup...

But she smiled. Laughed a little, even. _'Yes, Loki. We're friends. Now stay still.'_

_'That is good.'_ he smiled in return. _'Yes. Now, if nothing else, I know that I shall have a good friend to speak for my name. For if they were to judge my character by yours, they should find me rich in virtue.'_

_'You know, you can be a real charmer when you want to be.'_ she told him, brushing back his blood-matted hair.

_'I shall charm you onto my cock.'_ he chuckled.

Loki felt the overwhelming urge to slap himself.

_'Um, no. But how about we charm you into a nice pair of pyjamas?'_ she offered, extending him her hand.

_'No.'_ the memory grinned, pulling himself up. _'I shall be naked! Naked and ready.'_ He stumbled violently along his path, swaying upon her shoulder. _'My dagger is thirsty.'_ he attempted to whisper.

_'Yes, Loki. Very funny.'_

_'I can't feel my face.'_

_'Super.'_

From there the moment faded, and Loki was left in only grey. He paused a while, waiting for the voice to speak once more. When nothing came, he broke the silence himself. “Well, you have convinced me to give up drink.” But there was no reply. Not until there came sound, and voice.

_'Every year.'_ Caitlyn spoke through the grey. _'And he would tell me that it wasn't magic; it was better than that. It was phosphorous, or potassium; copper burning and exploding in a shower of blue that lit up the sky...'_ her breath caught a little _'...but to me, that was magic, you know? It was the way he made it all seem like...like I could make anything I dreamed. All I had to do was work it out, and I...could make the sky purple. That probably seems strange to you; you could do all of that with just a wave of your hand. But to me, that was just...oh, what do you care? You're asleep anyway.'_ She sighed.

“What is the purpose of this?” Loki asked the grey. “She does not...” and his words stopped, halted by the strangest, sweetest sound. And yet, not so strange. More familiar than he understood. And not so sweet; there was promise of darkness in her voice. In her wordless way.

_“I give you this gift, Loki of Asgard.”_ the voice of his tormentor spoke beside the sound.

He felt the beginnings of something maddening. Something stronger than any poison he had suffered.

_“For if men should go to slaughter, why not go singing?”_

He could no longer think, or fret, or plot. The shadows of the past no longer clung about his feet. It was as though he might fly...

_“What words, Loki of Asgard?”_ the woman asked so prettily. _“What words send the mad prince to war?”_

“I...” the word sounded so strange as it left his lips. So unlike his own voice. “I cannot...”

_“Such a pity.”_ she sighed.

The sound was ripped from him, his mind left naked and raw. Every doubt and fear came flooding back; every wound stung like new. The time in the darkness...

He returned to his body, lying cold on the stone floor, alone in the dark.

And he shivered.

 

#### Part 2 – Blood and Arson

“You want to talk about it?” Fury asked, placing a hand gently beside hers.

“No, Sir.” Maria replied, recoiling from his touch. In attempt to mask it, she drew out an interactive screen and began planning their next move.

“That was it, wasn't it? That was why...how he got in your head.”

This wasn't right. No way in hell.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Maria, I appreciate the dedication, but I am worried about you...”

She didn't move an inch in her chair. “I'm not going to betray Shield.”

“Now, you know that's not what I'm worried about.” Fury's hand tensed on the table. “Let's just say that he decides to follow through on his threats. Would you forgive yourself for sitting here instead of...”

“Instead of sitting somewhere else?” she replied, eyes darting over text. “The only way I know she's safe is if he's in a body-bag...and I put him there myself.” she stopped, and pushed the text onto the wall screen. “See that?”

Fury frowned. “What am I looking at here? Lab report?”

“DNA from the blood collected in the cave.” She brought further details to the screen; photos of the location, the interior of the cave, the body of the still-unidentified man, and a detailed analysis of the weapon. “It's not a match.”

“For the DB?”

“For human. For anything on Earth.”

He snorted with shocked amusement. “You mean to tell me, that crazy-ass rune-covered cave was decorated with a fresh layer of Loki's blood?”

“If it bleeds, we can kill it. Ow! Hey!” Barton yelped from the far corner of the room.

“Shut up, Barton.” Romanov ordered, removing her fist from his side.

Fury glared at the spies. “Do I have to issue you with bells? Next time, knock.”

Romanov raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Oh, I don't know; common courtesy?” Fury replied. What was it with the spies these days? No goddamn manners.

“So, was it the weapon or the carvings?” Romanov ignored Fury, walking right past him to Maria's side.

Fury eyed her. “Oh, I see; you're still pissed-off that I sent Rodgers in.”

“You bet she is.” Barton chirped from the corner.

Romanov tapped on the screen. “Did you ask Selvig about this?”

“Selvig's in protective custody. Not that that means much.” Maria replied in monotone.

Romanov nodded. “Crowds are safer.”

“Look, I am sorry that I sent your boyfriend...” Fury stopped at the assassin's cold glare.

“She doesn't like people calling him that.” Barton helpfully added.

“Shut up, Barton.” Romanov snapped.

It was like working with goddamn teenagers.

He tried again to calm the Russian. “I am sorry. But what choice did I have? Five minutes, and Hawkeye would have been road-kill.”

Romanov shrugged.

“Hey, that's not fair. I can be charming.” Barton retorted. “I used to be a con-artist, you know.”

“Shut up, Barton.” Fury and Romanov spoke in synchrony.

“Fine.” he huffed. “I guess I'll go relieve Ward.”

Once far enough away that he wouldn't hear them, Fury turned to Romanov. “How do you put up with that?”

She shrugged. “He's easier to cope with when you have a loaded weapon in your hands.”

And then Fury saw something happen that he swore to God couldn't be real.

Without warning, Romanov crouched, stretched out her arms, and _hugged_ Maria.

Maria looked just as startled as he was. “Natasha, what...?” She tried to move from her chair.

Romanov didn't speak. She just held her there. Calm and still.

Maria stuttered, and looked like she couldn't breathe.

No, Romanov wasn't choking her. No. That would be less crazy than what he was watching. This almost...well hell, it _did_ look like genuine human emotion, coming from the Black Widow. Fury had never seen anything like it. And by the way Maria seemed to soften, it looked like it was working.

“Natasha, I don't...I don't know what...” Maria's voice trembled.

“I'll set him on fire.” Romanov said sternly. “You don't mess with family.”

 

#### Part 3 – Death's Grip

When Loki finally went to her, it was far later than he had realised.

She was still fixed in place, almost in time, as she pounded upon a lifeless chest. Her dress was damp, still clinging to her form. Her hair rose in wild waves, crashing over her tired shoulders. With every motion she slowed, her body showing a weakness her will denied.

It was not the same one as before, though. One of the injured men sat slumped against the wall, breathing slowly.

And the idiot man was still there. He looked up at Loki, and immediately grasped at her hand. He would pay for that. “Doc. Doc, you gotta stop now.” he told her.

“No.” she replied.

“Doc, I mean it.” he pulled her from the cadaver.

She turned her head a little, met with Loki's eyes, and spoke. “If you're not going to help me, Eric, get out of my way.”

“Yes, _Eric_.” Loki seethed a little. “It would be best if you left. Now.”

The idiot man did as he was bid, and swiftly too. He was fortunate to do so, as Loki was in no mood for forgiveness.

Caitlyn returned to pounding upon the corpse.

“You are tiring.” Loki commented, observing her with folded arms. “What are you doing?”

She rose from the dead mouth. “CPR.”

Another breath was forced into the lifeless chest.

“You know that is not what I meant.” he leant against the wall, peering down at her with mild tolerance. “He is dead.” he used his foot to roll the man's head, and it fell with no resistance.

“Just fuck off, Loki.” she lacked the energy to make it sound anything other than a sigh.

He observed the creature with a missing face; that one had already begun to settle into the rigors of death. “Your efforts are futile.”

“Go suck a dick.”

He bit into his cheek and counted backwards from ten, but found he could not fully abate his rage. He grasped her by the arm, and pulled her to her feet. “Come.”

She scratched and hit and kicked, and it amounted to nothing. “Let me go! Let me go!” she hissed. “I hate you!”

“You already have so many reasons to hate me; I doubt this will make the top five.” He dragged her through the hallway to his chambers, meeting her weak resistance with ease. Once through the threshold, he willed the door to lock behind them.

“What's wrong with you?! Let me go!” she screamed at him.

He let her break his grip, and watched as she clawed at the door.

When the door remained in place, she turned to him with eyes of Hel. “Let me out of here, Loki, or I swear to god...!”

“You will swear to a god you have no belief in, to do me harm that you are incapable of? Forgive me if I do not tremble at your threats.” He calmly walked to the wardrobe, and pulled out a coat of thick white fur. “You will catch your death of cold in that wet dress. Wear this.”

She scowled at him. “Fur is murder.” she retorted as she cast the coat to the floor.

“No, murder is murder. And your tone will not be tolerated.” he warned. “Wear it, or you will be made to wear it.”

For a moment it looked like she might obey him. Then she pulled off her shoe and threw it for his head. For someone so exhausted, she managed to throw with a fair force too.

Despite his surprise, he still managed to avoid it.

“Fuck you, Loki! Just, Fuck You!” she yelled, removing its partner. “I'm not playing fucking games with you! This is life and death! Don't you get that?!”

He moved quickly through the space between them, appearing behind her, pinning her arms at the small of her back. With his other hand, he squeezed her neck; gently, only to gain her attention. “It is not life and death. It is only death. Any fool can see that.” he held her tightly to him, so close that he could feel the damp of her dress. “I cannot fathom what hold it has over you, but I can and will break it. And you will remain here until I am satisfied that has been accomplished.” He felt her hand brush against him; oh, she was determined to undo him. He steadied himself, bringing calm to his voice. “In a moment, I will release you from my grip. If you try to hurt me, or yourself, I will bind you. If you use your mouth in a manner to which I do not approve, it will be gagged. If you disobey me in any way, or I find other reason, you will be punished. And you will not leave this room until I allow it. Do you understand me?”

When she refused to answer, he tightened his grip.

“Do you understand me, Caitlyn?” He repeated sternly.

With some reluctance, she finally nodded.

“Good.” He let go of her neck, instead reaching for the strap over her left shoulder and pulling it to oneside. His lips pressed against her chilled, damp flesh. “I only do this because I love you. I hope you know that.”


	15. Games of the Vanir

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh God...
> 
> So sorry/not sorry.
> 
> So much odd smut. So much twisted humour.
> 
> I blame Loki.
> 
>  
> 
> PS, please do not try anything from part 1, unless you also have magical healing powers.

### Chapter 49 – Games of the Vanir

#### Part 1 – In Matted Fur

Caitlyn's eyes flickered open, and she took a moment to assess the situation. She was once again tied up on Loki's bed. Although this time lying on her stomach, it didn't feel like progress. Leather straps of some kind were secured around her wrists and ankles, all four limbs linked together at her back. This was thanks to a failed attempt to break Loki's nose, which had only left her with a bruised elbow and, well, this position.

The gag was another thing; she had dared to call him out on the fact he smelled like stripper perfume. He had told her to watch her tongue, and she had told him to go fuck the whole of London for all she cared. That hadn't gone down well either.

She struggled against the stifling heat of the fur coat, sweat beading at the hollow of her throat and sticking the lining to her skin. She tried to struggle out of it, but only managed to slide it a little way down, so that it hung around her shoulders. Her breasts rubbed bare against the silken sheets, in a way that was embarrassingly arousing. Further struggle only intensified the sensation, as the fur tickled her strung-up limbs.

At that moment of inwardly cursing, she heard Loki's footsteps. For some reason, instead of turning her head, she buried it into the bedcovers and pretended to sleep.

The steps were silent for a moment, then began to slowly approach. They stopped, and mattress dipped ever so slightly.

She thought for sure that he was about to chastise her, ridicule her for trying to pull-one-over on the God of Lies, but there wasn't a word. Instead, long fingers gently combed through her hair, stroking her. She wondered when he would try to wake her, but he continued to act as though she were a particularly skittish woodland animal.

He moved to lay by her side. His breath chilled her neck, and she fought hard not to shiver. “I will not be without you, Caitlyn.” he whispered as his fingertips traced a path from the top of her spine. They followed the curl of fur, around to her naked breast.

She bit back a moan beneath the gag as he began to toy with her, his fingers giving almost violent pressure.

He definitely knew she was awake. He slowly rolled her onto her side, holding her against him; her legs bent between them at a painful angle.

She could feel cold skin and stiff leather pressing against her limbs, against the fur. At her front, his fingers were firmer, pinching harder. The breath on her neck became sharp teeth. She let out a muffled scream.

But Loki didn't stop. “When you lie to me, it makes me want to hurt you. Darling.”

Something sharp scratched along her breast. She opened her eyes, and found to her horror that it was a knife. Her heart doubled its pace, and she felt her skin flush. The heat building between her skin and the fur only rose, sweat slowly trickling.

Behind, he held her still. “I thought about this for the longest time.” he continued, trailing the point down, splitting a button from the coat until he had opened it to her navel. “Slitting you open.” This time he turned her harshly onto her back.

She tried to shout again, as her arms were wrenched in their sockets, and the leather straps cut so painfully into her wrists and ankles that she swore they drew blood.

He climbed upon her, pushing her thighs apart with his own leather-clad legs. His pale chest moved sinuously, his breath fast and shallow. In his right hand he held the knife, brought it closer to her throat. The left, curiously, had slipped down the front of his stomach, beneath his open belt. For a second he caught her eyes, and seemed to grin with those thin lips and sharp teeth. He brought the knife slowly up, tracing the point down her temple, to her cheek. “I will have you beg, and plead.” With one swift movement, the gag was split, and he moved the knife downward.

She froze, watching as the blade travelled down her skin. Every time it touched her, her body seemed to spark, ache. This wasn't right. She couldn't like this. She couldn't be aroused by...this! What the hell was wrong with her? Why...? Why did she want it so badly?

He knew. Loki knew, and he was using it to break her apart.

She felt his hard length press against her thigh, and she nearly whimpered.

He removed her remaining buttons with ease. “You will close your eyes, Caitlyn.” he ordered darkly. He spoke again, without patience. “Close your eyes. Now.”

And she did. She didn't know why. All she could think of was the look in his eyes, and the hitch in his breath, and the toned pale arm that slowly rose and fell. And the knife. The knife that slid up the inside of her thighs. That trailed against her outer lips. And this time she did whimper.

Loki's breathing was faster now. He seemed to chuckle as he ran two fingers between her lips. “Your quim is dripping, darling.” A heavy sigh. “Oh, my twisted little toy.” He pulled away from her as she sank to him, leaving her only with the slightest of touches. “Who is your master? Who is your God?” He drew all sense from her, in the way only he could.

She moaned, mind torn between his ghosting fingers and cold blade. And she wanted nothing more than to just look at him as he toyed with her; his smug grin. Her limbs strained against the leather ties, burning. And when his fingers left her completely, she gave him what he wanted. “Loki.”

He pushed her legs open wider, the movement pulling at the restraints on her arms, so that she had to arch her back. He left her needing, wanting.

“Loki, please!” she whimpered. And she could hear him; flesh sliding on flesh, breathless. The knife had left her, but not for long, as he slipped the leather-bound handle into her cunt. It was far too short and too narrow to give her anything like the release she needed. “Loki. Please fuck me!” And yet she still didn't open her eyes.

He gave a choked laugh.

She could feel his furious movements as he trailed the head of his cock against her clit. “Loki!”

He gave a low groan as thick, cool fluid pumped across her stomach, splattering against her neck and breasts. And then he giggled, and took the knife from her.

She opened her eyes to see his grinning face, as he ran his fingers through the trail of his come. “You are such an arse.” She fought to move her head as he brought his dripping fingers to her lips. “No. No!”

“Come, Caitlyn. I saved you some.” he grinned, forcing his way into her mouth, laughing as she bit him hard. And he lay flat upon her, his fluid sliding slick and sticky between them. He licked his seed off her neck, then drove his tongue deep into her mouth.

She tried to bite him again, but he held her jaw open, until all she could do was to swallow the thick salty fluid. If she could, she would have kicked him in the cock.

Once he was done, he rose, rolled her onto her stomach, then broke the leather bindings open. “If you wish to discourage me from such activities, Caitlyn, you ought not to make them so enjoyable.” he purred, running his sticky fingers through her hair before rising. “You make me long to punish you.”

She stretched her aching limbs, massaged the life back into her wrists, then peeled herself from the sheets. Fur was already beginning to stick to her, and patches that had not escaped him were clumping. She went to remove it, but his hand stopped her.

“I did not say you could take that off.” he smiled wickedly, removing his belt and pulling it around her waist. He fastened it tight, then pulled her in to whisper into her ear. “I love to see my dried seed on a woman.”

She glared, and tried to open it, but found the buckle stuck. “You've locked it, haven't you.”

He chuckled, and darted away from her fists. “Remember, darling; if you hit me, we shall have to do this all over again!” He grasped at her wrists, and pulled her into a whirling dance. “Perhaps next time I shall finish into your throat.”

She turned her head from his attempt to kiss her.

“Oh, are you so shy, who only moments ago _begged_ for my attentions?” he mocked, pulling her against his chest “Rutting my blade like a bitch in heat.”

She frowned. “You really want me to hit you, don't you?”

“I...eh...” he grinned “...I am unsure. For there are times I wish you to lay at my feet, and others where I should like you to beat me _mercilessly_." His voice grew deeper, his dancing more wild.

She struggled to keep up with his crazed movements, trying to uncover the mischief in his eyes. Then, as he spun her close to him, and pulled her in suddenly, she found herself tripping over his heavy boot.

He caught her with ease, mock-fainting backwards onto the bed and pulling her over his lap. “Oh, oh cruel woman! Oh violent mistress of the dance, who has so painfully trodden on my foot! What sleight have I done you that deserves such punishment?!” Each melodramatic phrase had a half-giggled whimper. “Surely there must be some recompense for this egregious insult!”

“You fucking arse.” she grumbled. “Hey!” she squeaked as nimble fingers explored intimately beneath the thick fur coat.

Loki chuckled. “Using such words only gives me ideas, darling.” He pinned her upon his lap, while his searching fingertips teased. “Oh, and I do believe you have not had a man _here_ before.”

She tried desperately not to react. She knew he'd use anything as an excuse.

“Such a shame. A wanton slut like you, darling...” he stroked slowly “...I should expect you to take it wherever it is offered.” his finger dipped lower, to slide between slick lips “To let them use you as the whore that you are...”

Caitlyn whimpered as he twisted his fingers into her cunt, then drew them out, back towards...

“No. No struggling.” Loki said as he calmly pinned her. “I know you enjoy it. There is no need to deny yourself pleasure, certainly not with me. Know that I will demean and debase you; use you in the worst of ways, for my gratification and your own reluctant ecstasy; and learn not to fear it, but to long for it.”

She couldn't think anymore. The way he spoke to her...it made her feel so many horrendous things at once, and she just wanted to crawl out of her skin, and scream, and beg, and... “I'm hungry.” She barely registered she was speaking until the words had left her mouth. She tried again. “I don't think I've eaten all day.”

Loki paused in contemplation, his fingers overlying the slick trail he had been creating.

“In fact, I don't remember eating much yesterday, either.” she offered to his sense of reason, if it was still functioning. “Please, Loki? I'd really like something to eat.”

He hummed a little, letting his fingertips trace little circles. “And then what?”

“And then, we could play a game.” She knew that had hooked him.

“What kind of...game?” he tried to feign disinterest, but his whole body had seemed to twitch at once.

She felt him slowly allowing her to rise. “Your favourite kind.”

“Name it.” he replied instantly.

“I will, after we eat.” She stood in front of him, arms folded, in her _'I am the grown up, and what I say goes'_ stance. She wondered if it was as effective when she was trapped in a fur coat and splattered with drying come.

“Oh...oh you are tricky, love. Wicked temptress.” He licked his lips. “If I should win your game?”

She struggled to come up with something she was prepared to give, and definitely not what he had in mind. “We can talk about it after dinner.”

His fingers drummed against his leather-clad thigh. He tried to maintain the image of someone carefully considering an offer, but she knew he was hooked. With a quick glance, that wolfish smile returned. “I will claim all that is mine, darling. That is what I take when I win. Nothing less.”

Oh, this was definitely a mistake.

 

#### Part 2 – Sweet and Sour

Caitlyn chewed as slowly as humanly possible, choking down every sickly bite. “Toffee sauce does not belong on beef.” she grimaced.

“I fail to see the issue. There are both sweet and sour flavours.” Loki shrugged, picking the ribs before him clean.

“That is a specific dish, not a philosophy.” she was actually beginning to sweat at the effort it took to eat.

Loki chewed slowly on a quarter of a lime. His tolerance of strong flavours had certainly increased in his time on earth. He performed an orgasmic grunt as he drained the last of the flesh, leaving the peel discarded at the side of his plate.

She shuddered.

“Perhaps you should take a little of your drink, love.” he smirked “You have barely touched it.”

She glared at him. “It's a little...salty.”

He chuckled out loud. Of course he thought it was fucking funny. Arse.

She forced down the last bite she could manage, aware that he was waiting impatiently for her to finish. She had spent the majority of the revolting meal trying to come up with a game that she could actually win against him, and in which he couldn't cheat. So far she had fuck-all.

“I am anticipant, my sweet.” he smiled, curling his fingers together beneath his chin. “If your ideas have failed you, I have _imagination_ in abundance.”

“Yeah, I bet you have.” she muttered. _Think, Caitlyn, think! What are you good at? Anatomy? That's not going to cut it here, unless there's a corpse and...oh my god, do not offer that! Come on! His game will definitely involve shoving things up your arse. You have to think of something, now! Something that doesn't involve speed, balance, manual dexterity..._ “...Twister.”

_Shit, Caitlyn. Just...shit._

“What is _twister_?” he raised an eyebrow.

“It's a game...you know...where you spin the thing on the board, and you have to put your hands or feet somewhere on the mat that matches...” _This is one of the worst ideas you have ever had, Caitlyn._ “...and you keep going until one of you can't, or falls over.”

“Both players at once?” he enquired.

“Yeah, or more than two, however many can fit...” she stopped herself.

He was grinning like it was pervert Christmas.

“Or in this case, just two.” she said firmly.

“Oh, really?” he let his tongue dart between his teeth.

“Yes.” she replied. “And before you ask, there are no chains or cuffs or restraints of any kind. There are no whips. There are no sex-toys involved.”

He pouted. “Oh, you are no fun.”

“And no illusions, or body-doubles, or whatever other kind of cheating shit...” she stopped at his expression.

“Careful, Caitlyn. Mind your tongue.” he warned. “I can think of more intrusive gags than a simple strip of silk, and punishments you would enjoy less.”

That tone made her skin tingle, and she fought the flush it gave her cheeks. “I'm sorry. I only meant that it should be played fairly.”

“Do you doubt me?” he managed his most innocent smile.

She struggled not to reply. The silk and fur was thickly glued to her skin with a mix of bodily fluids, getting more uncomfortable by the minute; she dreaded to think what his next punishment might entail. “Of course not.” she forced herself to say, without a hint of sarcasm.

Loki grinned wide. “Oh, you are doing well, pet. I think you may make me work for this.” He leaned forward eagerly. “Have you heard of a 'spreader-bar'?”

She almost lied to him, but thought better of it. “Yes.”

“I imagine it would impede one in this game of 'twister', no?” he placed a long finger along his jaw. “To have one's limbs pinned at length, body stretched open and vulnerable...”

“Yes.” she replied.

“Yes...” he smirked “It seems only fair, as I am new to your game, that you play with some form of penalty.”

_Fuck shit fuck fucking sadistic fucking asshole._

“But, as I am feeling charitable, I will wave such a penalty...if you finish your drink.”

The wicked glint in his eye told her all she needed to know about the added salt content of her White Russian.

“I am waiting, Caitlyn.” he reclined back, leaning his leg over the arm of his chair.

She grimaced, swallowed her pride, and started to choke down the thick fluid. It was enough to make her eyes water. Half way though, she stopped for breath.

“You must tell me how you enjoy the taste. I made it myself, you know.”

_Oh, you fucking arse._

He watched intently as she swallowed every last drop. “You have a little on your lip.” he noted.

She drew her finger along her lips and sucked it clean. “Satisfied?”

“Oh, not even remotely.” he grinned “But we have time.”

 

#### Part 3 – Games of the Vanir

From the moment that they began, Caitlyn knew he had no intention of playing fairly. So it wasn't really a surprise when the mat became mirrored tiles, or when the lights had dimmed, or when Loki began to strip. Of course he had claimed that it allowed him to move without impediment, or some other bullshit like that. It might have even been partly believable...if he hadn't kept the helmet on.

“You know, I believe I _have_ played this game before.” Loki noted, as he slid his arm across her neck. “The Vanir have a similar pastime...not that Hogun would admit it, that cad!” He laughed loudly, and took another sip of his drink. “Oh, I do apologise. Would you like some?” He offered, extending his twisted arm to her lips.

Even while drunk, on one leg, and arched backwards, he still had perfect balance.

“Come on, Caitlyn. You will need it.” he taunted her “I plan to fuck you as soon as you fall, which will be any moment now...” His nimble fingers set down the glass, and spun the traitorous piece of plastic. “Damn.” he huffed, and returned to his glass. “Right foot red.”

_Good plastic. Friendly plastic._ Caitlyn smiled, and uncrossed her legs, changing to a far more stable position. It could have been better; she was still on all fours and trapped in a come-covered fur coat, but it was definitely better than on her back under an enthusiastic Loki. _Yes, better, Caitlyn. Better._ “Right hand blue.”

He muttered something alien, and reluctantly set down his drink. “Well, at least from here I have a magnificent view of your arse.”

She tried to ignore that. And to ignore what she could so obviously see reflected in the floor. Sometimes it wasn't that difficult to imagine why he was called a god.

_What the hell is wrong with you? Can't you get your mind off of...?_

“You know...” he interrupted her thoughts with a low purr “I think I shall wear my helmet as I fuck you. There is something rather aesthetic in it.” he leant forward a little, and let himself brush against the back of her thigh. “For if I was to be painted taking you, it would not be without my helmet.”

“ _'Vain'_ doesn't quite do you justice, does it?”

At that he laughed. “Vain? I? Oh...” he spoke in small breaths “Perhaps before you say such things, you should check your own vanity.”

“What?” she asked, affronted. “Excuse me, but...”

“But nothing.” he chuckled “Oh, Caitlyn, I do believe you are one of most vain creatures I have ever met!”

She gave a small snort. “Um, have you _seen_ what you look like?”

Loki's short bursts of laughter turned into great heaving sighs.

If she kept this up, he might lose his footing. “I mean, for fuck's sake. You don't even need to keep warm, and you wear that fucking pimp coat!” She turned her head and caught sight of the tears beading in his crumpled eyes. “You daft pillock!” The smile had spread to her own lips. “I half expect you to turn up one day dressed as a fucking peacock with feathers sticking out of your arse!”

That was enough. That one last word sent him shaking so furiously that he crashed to the floor, laughing like a maniac. Tears rolled down his cheeks, not so sharp as they seemed before. Lips that were normally drawn thin were not quite so pale and cold. Before either of them knew it, those lips were against her own. His hands were in her hair, pulling her in tightly.

Her body strained to be against his, to touch his skin, to take him into her. She was trapped, far too hot and too charged to make sense of it all.

He struggled to free her from her clothes, the two of them making more mistakes than either could count. He chuckled against her lips, pausing only to groan as he seated his cock inside her.

So deep, so completely filled.

His hands were at her back, at her throat, her breast, circling at the skin where their bodies joined.

Even out of her clothes, even against pale, cool skin, she couldn't fight the burning heat. Sweat trickled down her back as she rocked back and forth with all the strength she could muster.

His dampened fingertips moved slick against her skin, twisting her will until it broke completely. When he stroked against her ring of tight muscle, she offered no resistance, only savouring the strange and wicked sensation.

And with every thrust, every rise and fall of the tide, Caitlyn felt the loudest part of her mind getting quieter, quieter, until there was nothing left above a whisper. And she wasn't anything anymore, she wasn't anyone. She was nothing but a surging, pulsing white light; her body left trembling in ecstasy.

He arched his back, and called out something that might have been her name.

She only listened for the silence, perfect and still.

He pulled her to his chest, to lie against him as he fought for breath.

That too was silence. The sound of his breath. The sound of his heart beating. 

He was silence. He was the only thing that was silence.

But it was not forever. It was never long enough.

She spoke. “Loki.”

“Hmm?” he purred contentedly.

“Get your finger out of my arse.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I judge me for this.
> 
> Oh well.


	16. Breaking Point

### Chapter 50 – Breaking Point

#### Part 1 – The Unmade Army

“Wake up, Tony.” an unwelcome voice called. “No more sweet dreams.”

Tony slowly opened his eyes, with what little strength he had left. He still couldn't quite catch his breath, chest shaking and rattling with every movement.

“Come on, Tony. You don't want me to make you.” the voice slowly sunk into a threatening joy. “I mean, I don't give two shits about it, but from where you are...” a small laugh slipped through “Don't make me do the speech. It makes us both look like something out of a bad tv show.”

He fought against the pain, and looked into the face of Aldrich Killian. “I...” he coughed loudly, feeling a stabbing all the way through his lungs. “I really...” he grimaced at the feeling of his broken ribs “...love your shoes. Prada?”

“Gucci, actually.”

“Oh. Great purchase.” Tony turned slightly, trying to escape from the blinding pain. “Glad you're not one of those...” he jolted in place “...guys who thinks white leather's _tacky_.”

Killian bared his teeth. “You know, Tony, I don't come from money. Not like you. Actually...” he paused, picking up something that glinted in the light “...the opposite of you, in fact. See, I don't really tell many people this, but I had what you might call a _fractured_ childhood.”

In a flash, the metal was in and out of Tony's leg, leaving him screaming.

“I was born on the wrong end of the bell curve, in every way possible, and I have fought for thirty-seven years to be the man I am today. To be the guy on the right end of the knife.” He swung it again, making small cuts on Tony's legs. “You don't remember me, do you, Tony? You don't remember when I came to you with a brilliant idea that was going to make me rich, and you richer. An idea that would have made both of us...” he dropped his voice low “...that would have made enough of us stronger than Loki.” Killian smirked, and shook his head. “But you threw that all away. I want you to know that, Tony; all of this is because of you. We could have been prepared. We could have defended ourselves when a god fell from the sky. And when those alien ships came, we could have had an _army_ ready and waiting, instead of...well, instead of you.”

Tony barely felt the knife the third time. It was only afterwards that he noticed the pain. He roared, choking on stinging air.

“But now Loki has the army. And I've got the knife. And now you have to make me the offer that I made you.” Killian smiled. “You have a lot of talent, Tony, and I'd hate to see it wasted at the bottom of an unmarked grave. So you offer to help me, and I can help you get back everything that you've lost. I can get you back to your big house and your obnoxious cars, and your big white bed where Pepper's waiting for you. I know she is. And that's not some line, because I have been having her followed, Tony.”

He felt the last of his will drain away like so much wasted blood.

“I always have Pepper Pots in a line of sight.” he smiled, eyes crinkling at the corners “And it would be a real shame to stain those soft white sheets of yours.” he let eat word slowly trickle out “Or her soft. White. Skin.”

“If you kill her, you'll get nothing from me.” Tony hissed. “You hear me?”

“Oh, I wasn't talking about killing her, Tony!” Killian laughed. “Not at first, anyway. But I don't want to go into all the gory details. Let's just say that I have something special in mind for Pepper, if you decide not to be the bigger man in all this. And you can lie here, suffering and watching everyone else suffer, until the end of the world. It's up to you.”

“You fucking bastard.” he said, expecting the knife as a reply. It would have been kinder than what came.

He sighed. “She still waits for you to come home, Tony. Did you know that?” Killian asked, pulling out his cell phone “Still makes you your morning coffee, and leaves it out until it gets cold. And then she pours another cup. All day. Every day.” He held the screen still in front of Tony's eyes. “It's getting kind of sad, really. You should have seen her last night; wakes up in the middle of the night, comes running downstairs, opens the front door, and just closes it again. And then she goes to the kitchen, makes your cup of coffee, and she just cries. Just sits there and cries. All alone, in your big empty house. And you know the worst part?” he moved through the countless images to ones of Pepper with her head buried in her hands, her eyes swollen red. “She looks so ugly when she cries.”

Tony could feel his throat tighten as his eyes welled up. He wouldn't cry, though. Not here. Not now. “You don't touch Pepper.” he steeled himself, trying to make his voice sound not so...not so completely broken. “You don't get to breathe the same air as her. And you tell Loki...you tell that son of a bitch that if he goes within a hundred miles of her, the deal's off.”

Killian grinned. “What was that, Tony? Did I hear the word _deal_?”

“You heard it. And since I'm the one you need to make my tech work, you're hearing demands.” the pain was nothing now. The pain was somewhere in the back of his mind, with the humiliation and everything else. “Pep comes out of this unharmed. I want that in stone. Hell, I want that in blood. And I want to hear it from _him_ too. I want him to swear it on whatever he calls sacred.”

“Tony, I don't go around giving orders to the King. That's a good way to get stabbed...” Killian smiled, taking his phone back and dropping it into the pocket of his crisp white suit. “But I'll see what I can do. It's been a real pleasu...”

“I'm not done.” Tony interrupted. “I need my kit. Can't do anything for you without my kit. Or on this shitty-ass table.” he tugged against the metal cuffs “I work better when I can move around. And I'm going to need hamburgers. And fries. And something with a lot of caffeine in it, 'cause honestly I need it. I'm a caffeine junkie.”

“I'm not a fucking drive-through, Tony.”

Tony grinned. “Well, yes you fucking are. Otherwise you'd be making the tech, huh?”

Killian scowled, and for a second, Tony could have sworn that his eyes glowed. “Anything else?” he hissed.

“A new pair of pants. It's gonna be thinner round the waist, you know, 'cause of the diet down here. Hell, you can probably measure me up. Make sure the seam goes right to my balls.” He kept going, because it was still funny. And Tony could do with some funny right now. “And I wanna see the Doc.”

“Hah!” Killian laughed. “Getting sentimental, Tony? You're not getting Loki's favourite toy away from him that easy.” He hissed a little at the word toy. That was interesting.

“I think of it more like a test-run. If I know she's ok, I can trust you're all keeping your word. If Doc doesn't show up, I know I can't. Like right now, for example; I see Doc alive and well today, and I can shake your hand and we can make a deal. I don't, and maybe whatever I make has a special little fuck-you surprise inside. Maybe it doesn't. We don't know. All part of the production process. Beta testing and shit.”

Killian shook his head. “I'll let him know. But I hope he hurts you for this. And I hope he hurts you bad.” With a quick turn, he made for the door.

“Crazy straw!” Tony shouted as the door swung shut. “I want a crazy straw too. One of those ones that looks like glasses. Shit.” he breathed as he collapsed back into the unyielding metal, the pain and light-headedness catching up with him. He blinked his eyes shut, and thought of Pepper. “I'm coming for you, honey.” he sighed. “I'm coming home. I promise.”

 

#### Part 2 – Pillow Talk

Caitlyn gave a high-pitched sigh, broken in parts by gasps. “You are the devil.” she moaned as Loki lay kisses upon her clit.

“You flatter me.” he grinned, coaxing more out of her in the way only he could.

She gripped hard into the silken sheets, writhing in ecstasy.

Until he stopped.

She let out a string of expletives, just as she had every other time that night.

It only made him laugh. Heartily.

“Why are you doing this to me?” she sighed in exasperation.

“Because it is funny.” Loki smiled, kissing her neck with damp lips.

She would have punched him, but she simply didn't have the energy anymore. She just lay there beneath him, and let him caress her with an unusual amount of tenderness. Every cell of his body seemed determined to touch her own, as though he were memorising her.

It was only then that she noticed a weight around her wrist. “Have you...?” she began, only to see the golden chain that dangled from her skin. “Oh.” it was all she could think to say. In the candle-light the heavy stones looked nearly black, but as the light caught them just-so, a hint of green came shining through. “Oh...”

“Well, I confess, I was hoping for a few more syllables.” Loki smiled, pulling her up against his reclined form, stroking his arms down the length of hers.

“I don't...” She had never imagined that she would wear something that cost more than her education. “Loki, I don't need this.”

“I know that.” he pulled her in tighter, playing with the large dangling emeralds. “But I wish for you to wear it. It gives me pleasure. And...” his fingertips slipped across her skin “...as you have no vanity to speak of, you should have no trouble with being seen wearing it.”

“You mean, being seen _'wearing your colours'_?” she replied curtly as she felt him nearing her sex “Why don't I just go around naked with a collar that says _'Property of Loki'_?”

“Now there's a thought.” he said, as he teased his way over her hip bone. “To have you bared to the world, wearing nothing but my seed.” He nipped gently at her ear, satisfied to have made her squirm. “They would be so jealous...”

She rolled her eyes. “You and your _'sacred seed'_...”

He laughed and turned her onto her back, pouncing upon her. “Jealous of _me_ , my darling.” he kissed the hollow of her throat. “Gods and men would be jealous of me, to have such a thing as you...” he kissed upward to her lips “...by my side. And in my bed. They could not even fathom the whole of it. Of what you are.”

“You keep saying that, like I'm supposed to know what it means.” She smiled despite herself. “Like it actually means anything.” her grin deepened as he grew closer to her lips. “Your fucking pillow-talk.”

He kissed her so deftly. “Perhaps I lie then. Perhaps I am swept up in the lie itself.” His fingers drew heat to the surface of her skin, and made her shiver to her bones. “And lies which beget truths. For if you would sing me lies of love, I would return in truth a hundred-fold.” Every whisper was designed to make her heart race.

She took in too-warm breath. “The fucking devil.” she muttered.

Loki tentatively crept to her waist, further down, letting his fingertips tease her waiting cunt. “And you are heaven.” he said softly “What more could I ask for?”

She sighed and closed her eyes as his hair brushed her cheek. “Don't.” her voice came out meeker, softer than she had imagined. Like this time she wasn't ordering. Like she wasn't bargaining. Like she was …

His cool touch left her. “Appearances can be changed, Caitlyn.” he said as he opened the chain at her wrist “Nature cannot. To pretend otherwise is a foolish sort of vanity.” He took the bracelet from her, and placed it upon his bedside table. “If you should wish to make me happy, choose to wear it. If not, leave it be.” He reclined his pale form against the dark wooden headboard, and forced a smile as he turned to her. “There are some things I would not force upon you.”

She saw a flicker of bitterness behind his eyes.

“Not ever.”

She felt suddenly self-conscious, and drew the sheets up over her naked skin. “You don't...”

“I do.” he calmly interjected. “I understand that there are times I...that I ask too much.” he reached out, and brushed back her loose hair. “With time, perhaps you shall give me more than I deserve. Know too that such things would give me joy beyond measure.”

She remained there, frozen.

“I will always ask too much, Caitlyn. I will always want too much. I mean to be king of one realm or another, but I shall not be tyrant to you. That I swear.”

_One realm or another?_

Before she could speak, there was a loud knock at the door.

“Leave or die.” Loki loudly replied.

“King,” the voice began. Killian's voice. “He's ready to make a deal.”

A chill crept over her before she knew why. Before she realised that there was only one person they could be talking about.

“I must leave you, darling.” Loki rose from the bed. “I shall not be long.”

“What have you done?” she whispered in horror. “What have you done to him?!”

He dressed in silence, evading her as she tried desperately to grasp at him. To pull him back. To stop...to just stop.

“Loki!” she screamed “For god's sake, what have you done to him?!”

He turned from her, and went for the door. Only a single flicker showed the smile on his lips.

And then came the flashes of memory; the glee with which he had ripped through the flesh of another human being; the screams of the man whose eye was gouged from his skull. Like an unfamiliar shadow looming over her, darkly, silently, in one septic smile. And she could feel his every touch, the little pools of saliva that still sat on her skin, the smell of sex that clung to everything. She could feel him on her, poisoning her.

His hand was already tightening around the handle when she reached him.

“Don't.” her voice shook. “Whatever it is. Whatever you're going to do. Don't.” Her hand stopped just before reaching his, and withdrew at the deathly cold.

That didn't go unnoticed. He stared deeply into her eyes. “Why?” he implored.

For a moment words failed her. For a moment her will failed. In that moment she found fire. “I will stop you, Loki.”

He stared again, for far too long. “You might try.” he spoke before he vanished.

Caitlyn beat wildly against the door, and screamed in frustration at finding it locked. “You don't know what I am, Loki!” She yelled through the door. “You have no idea!”

 

#### Part 3 – Family Ties

Fury shook his head. It had all been there, right from the start. It had been staring them in the face, but they had been too busy with saving the world to realise. There was a reason Loki had chosen her. They had all known it. It just took a little more digging to realise what a terrible mistake they had made in handing her over to the demigod.

“This doesn't make any sense.” Hill muttered, searching over the information on the screen in front of her. “We went through the files, we did a thorough background check, we even tested her blood, for Christ's sake. How did we miss this?”

The room fell silent, save for the empty hum of engines.

Fury cursed himself. How many times had Stark tried to tell him? How many times had he gone over that interview with the little kid, and never picked up on the two most important words he had said?

“We were basing our algorithms on paternal inheritance.” Romanov spoke in monotone, a sign she was trying her hardest to plan the next move. That was bad.

Captain Rodgers spoke up. “But I thought she tested negative for this _'gene defect'_.”

“She did. Whole family did.” Hill replied. “This is something else.”

“Something else? What kind of _'something else'_? Experimentation?” Rodgers asked. “Aliens? Is she...?”

“As far as we can tell,” Fury began “By every weight and measure, Doctor Black is one-hundred-percent human. What else, I can't tell you.” His bad eye had begun to ache, and he knew that nothing was going to take it away this time.

“No previous contact with Shield, or any other agency. Christ, she wasn't even on the radar.” Hill cursed.

“Then we'll fix the radar.” Fury replied.

“Here.” Agent Hill raised case files onto their screens. “Mary. Very distant cousin, mother's side. Chain of petty thefts, grand larceny, eventually started a small personal army dressed-up as a cult. Shield lost twelve operatives in the battle to bring her in.”

They stared at the mugshot in front of them. Apart from the hair and shape of the nose, the criminal and the doctor might have been sisters.

“Shield has had Mary in the Vault for the last nine years. In her first month she brainwashed her guards and nearly escaped, so we switched to a video-only interaction system. No human contact except for medicals.”

The tape took a while to catch up, and Fury saw something all too familiar in the way those guards suddenly turned and started shooting up their former allies. Motherfucker, this was Loki all over again.

Hill continued. “Until three years ago; she pretends to swallow the sedative for the camera. When the doctor arrives, she makes him hand her the keys, then he injects a lethal volume of potassium chloride directly into his jugular vein. Luckily the system went into lockdown before she could reach the next floor.”

The body in the video lay twitching on the floor, needle still sticking from his neck. Fury remembered being informed at the time; that there had been an _'incident'_ at the vault. One of the prisoners had attempted escape. They had caught her though. Hell, they had played it like a victory.

“From then on, we gassed her first.”

“Is that legal?” Rodgers frowned.

“It was necessary.” Hill replied. “And it worked. And then we had the '11 systems crash. Mary managed to reach the fifth floor, where we only had a half a dozen agents on duty. But this time none of them turned. She surrendered, and we escorted her back downstairs to her cell. She's been there since.”

No. Oh God, no. Fury remembered this.

“Did she say why?” Romanov asked.

“No.” Hill replied. “She hasn't spoken a word since.”

“That's not true.” Fury shook his head. How could he have been so god-damned stupid. “We had it analysed...” he rewound the last ten seconds of the surrender, and spoke along with the criminal's lips.

_“I guess someone broke my record.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So glad you've read this far. :)
> 
> Please let me know what you think.
> 
> Sorry for taking such an insanely long time. New job, new city, crazy hours, all factor into my excuses.
> 
> For what it's worth, I think you guys are awesome for sticking around this far.
> 
> x Pinch


	17. Bloodied

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another psychologically dark chapter.
> 
> Loki, you asshole.

### Chapter 51 – Bloodied

#### Part 1 – Mist

No matter how hard she scrubbed, Caitlyn couldn't remove his touch. Even as scalding water pricked at her skin, it still felt like frostbite. And the ache...that ache between her thighs. And so she scrubbed harder, made the water steam. She made it hurt. Like it should have hurt. Like she deserved to hurt. It was only when black spots began to dance across her vision that she decided it was time to stop.

_Loki's whore. That's what they'll call you when this is over._

She drew the towel against her skin, harshly.

_If it's ever over. He's still got another four thousand years._

The hairdryer was gone. Like he was expecting a fucking suicide attempt. Come on, he'd already locked her up, why didn't he just go the whole way and pad the walls?

_He'll replace you, but you'll always be the first. The first traitor. The first woman to fall to her knees for 'King Loki'. You'll be in the history books._

She tore at her hair, pulled and twisted it with the towel. She rubbed at her ears, anything to make everything just shut up...just shut up...just shut up!

_Doing her part for the new empire._

She cleared away the steam and stared deep into the mirror, into the face she was beginning to loathe, and into the eyes that seemed to keep the last spark of her soul. And she spoke to it.

>   
>  “In the fell clutch of circumstance,  
>  I have not winced nor cried aloud.  
>  Under the bludgeonings of chance,  
>  My head is bloody but unbowed.” 

And, slowly, a smile lifted the corners of those sad eyes. “I am Doctor Caitlyn Black.” She told the face behind the glass. The furious, wild creature whose eyes were made of fire. “And I am bloodied, but unbowed.” A fresh coat of steam formed in front of her, and this time she let it sit. She let the creature retreat behind the mist. Behind silk and jewels. And it would wait...to take down a king.

 

#### Part 2 – Drowning

Alright, Tony was the first to admit that he didn't really do humility well. No-one would disagree, not since the _'suck it, losers'_ speech on winning his entrepreneur of the year award, or when a 'mysterious source' accidentally leaked that he had a three-way with two...anyway, not important since he had Pep now. He was getting off track. But he had just assumed that other people would get the hint. Even if they hadn't been on planet earth for the last hundred years. And that was why, when Loki had told him to _'Swear to submit to my rule.'_ , Tony had replied with the biggest gut-wrenching laugh of his life.

The look on Loki's face was priceless.

“I'm sorry...” Tony chuckled. “Try that one more time.”

The demi-god of leather pants gave him a death-glare. “You will...”

“Hah!” Tony snorted, sides aching. “Oh God! It's just the face, and the...!”

“Silence!” Loki screamed, wrapping his hand around Tony's neck.

“...horns.” Tony whimpered under his breath while the hand tightened. He could feel his head starting to throb, veins swelling. Something in his neck had cracked.

“Heed me well, Anthony Stark.” Loki hissed. “You shall show me the respect I am due, or I will beat it into you!”

He tried to escape the grip, to pull air into his already abused lungs, but the hand lazily followed his every movement.

“You do not mock or make demands of me.” His voice turned more calm as he spoke. “Your life is nothing to me, and I may take it whenever I see fit. The same too for the woman who spreads her legs for you.”

Tony thrashed against his restraints as the edges of his vision blurred.

“I will kill her if I choose. I will fuck her if I choose.” Was he getting calmer, or was he getting quieter, hidden behind the pounding of blood in Tony's ears? The grip eased a little, and Loki leant in. “I may even give her as a prize to Mr Killian, should the mood take me.”

Half a breath at a time, Tony pulled life into his chest, every second hoping for everything to end. To just wake up, next to her.

“It is for you to beg, Anthony. It is for you to plead.” Loki released him with disdain, wiping his hands clean. “You told me he was broken.”

Killian emerged from the shadows. “Any more and he's no use to anyone.”

Humiliated, in pain, desperately clinging to life, there was only one thing that crossed his mind. “I want...to see her.” Tony wheezed.

“Tough shit, Tony.” Killian replied. “Not gonna happen.”

“What is this?” Loki asked. “Does he speak of his woman?”

“He, ah...” Killian smirked through every word. “He wants to see yours.”

Tony groaned inwardly. Fucking Aldrich Killian. He was more of a pain in the ass than the rigid steel table.

“Oh, Anthony. How pathetic you are.” Loki sneered. “Ever the valiant hero!”

“Is she...still alive?” Tony asked, not sure if he was ready to hear the answer either way.

Now Loki laughed. “Alive?!” he threw his head back dramatically, running spidery fingers through his hair. “She is more alive than ever!” he sighed. “You did not think I would let my prize escape me? My sweet victory?” Somehow he conjured images in the air, of him and the doctor. “Poor, pathetic little man. You mean to save her? She _chooses_ me, you fool. Caitlyn comes to me nightly. She begs me to fuck her, and she begs so sweetly.” Loki looked Tony in the eye as he said every word, a cruel smile splitting his face.

The illusions stripped, dropped to their knees before Loki. Some opened their mouths, others bent over for him. Tony turned his head, only to be met with another Doc, taking it where the sun don't shine. Geez, he didn't need to see that.

“This is your failure, Anthony. And my great triumph.” Loki mocked. “Never was a woman so willing to serve her God.” He turned Tony's head to face them. To make him watch as Loki played out all the ways he had fucked her. A couple of them made Tony's eyes water. “And you thought to 'save her'? I am saviour enough, Anthony. I savour her each night. I have the taste of her on my lips. Her screams of pleasure ring in my ears. Oh, she curses wildly while I fuck her, but it is always _'harder'_.”

Tony felt bile rise in his throat. 

Loki let him turn away, grinning at his disgust. “Perhaps your woman will say the same? I often wonder whether my size might split Midgard women in two, but they seem to be hungry for it. Always _'more'_ , always _'harder'_.” Loki sneered, as the illusions changed. “One might think they have not been satisfied in a very long time. Just waiting for a fuck that makes them feel...devout.” He gave a single laugh. “And the things they do to earn it...”

At Loki's command all manner of fucked-up sadistic things started happening. Things Tony hadn't even seen on his drunken adventures through the depths of redtube. Knives and blood, and...and then he saw it. And he could have laughed.

The illusions were supposed to be Pep, but the more Tony looked, the more they weren't. They looked like her, he guessed, but they just weren't her. There was something different, something...missing. And he looked back to the posturing God, and saw past the Goth-Bowie coat, and he laughed. Again.

Loki's face stuttered, like some broken AI.

“That's it?!” His laugh was weak, barely audible, painful, but there. “That's all you got? After all that...you'll show my girlfriend a good time?!”

Loki twisted, his body tensed. “I do not think you appreciate...”

Tony sighed. “Man, that's...fucking pathetic. At least Killian brought pictures.”

Killian stepped back into the shadows as Loki glared around the room.

“Come on, dude. Get some new material. That shit got old in the fifties.” Tony was aware he was giving some of the worst-timed zingers in his life, but hell, it was better than watching the hologram rape. “ I mean, Doom's got...” and now he had a knife pointed at his throat.

“...has what?” Loki traced the blade upwards, setting the point just below Tony's chin. “He has what?” he was doing his best to sound calm.

Tony knew a fucking liar when he saw one.

“He has what?” Loki was getting more insistent, and stab-ey. “Answer, mortal! He has what?!”

Tony cleared his throat and settled for the most irritating word he could think of. “ _Gravitas_.”

Loki took a step back, gently shaking his head. “Oh, Anthony, you have so severely misjudged me.” The illusions vanished, and now the room was much darker. “Did you think to trick me? Me?” The sound Loki made started like laughter. “Do you think that this is the worst that I can do? This, Anthony, this is my _hospitality_. I had so hoped that you might have realised that.” He turned to Killian, head hung low enough for hair to obscure his expression. “Leave us.” he ordered plainly.

“But...” Killian begun, and immediately stopped himself. He bowed and moved quickly for the door.

It was the first time that Tony had ever seen that man look close to human. “What...?”

“Stop talking.” Loki cut him off abruptly. “You pay me heed, even if I have to remove your tongue to ensure it.” A single tap against the wall, and all the lights went out. All apart from Tony's reactor. The warm blue light, the hope for all mankind.

The reactor flickered. The room grew darker. Even the sliver of light beneath the door had receded. It was all around him. The choking dark. The drowning dark.

“I thought you might have understood, Anthony.” Loki's voice kept moving around him, circling him. With every flicker of blue, Tony could catch a glimpse. “We share something, you and I.” Cold breath against his neck, long spidery fingers that tapped a slow beat against metal. “I know what you have seen, Anthony Stark. You saw what lay beyond the gateway.”

Tony shivered away from him, but couldn't escape. And when his light flickered, he could feel the pitch black swallowing him whole.

A long finger tapped against his chest-plate, and the reactor kicked back into life, blue shadows cast over the room.

And he could breathe again.

“So what if I did?” Tony replied. Trying not to shake. Trying not to cry out.

A small shift in stance, and the light caught Loki's chin. Only something was different. It was set with what looked like a deep scar.

The light went out.

Tony could feel it. He could feel the dark swarming. He could feel that little cluster of shrapnel getting closer to his heart. Tearing into him.

“You were afraid.” Loki whispered, and tapped the light back into life. “You were in the darkness for a moment. A breath.” He stood by Tony's feet. The light traced that black scar further up a stern jaw, to split in two, fracturing the frozen face.

It was only now that Tony realised there were parts _missing_. An ear severed at the base. The tip of the nose.

An eye.

“Did you want it to end, Anthony? Did you fear you might go mad?” The light flickered out as he spoke. Loki trailed his fingernails across the metal frame, slowly scratching towards him. “Alone, in the dark? Shall I tell you something, Anthony? If you survive long enough, you find that you are not alone. No matter how much you beg.” He tapped the reactor again, bringing back the dim light.

And fuck it, Tony was starting to nearly feel grateful to the bastard for it.

“You drifted for a moment, Anthony. Barely a breath.” Loki listlessly trailed his fingertips over the surface of the reactor.

“Don't.” Tony whimpered. “Please. I can't.” He was breathing fast, trying to pull in all the air he could before the light went out. “Don't.”

A cold tap, and everything was gone. Swallowed in black. Suffocating.

Drowning.

“You do not know suffering, Anthony Stark.” The voice was behind him. Around him. Everywhere. “You do not know darkness.” Cold, sharp, against his throat. Ice. Scraping. A knife. “And you...” It was a whisper, on all sides, ringing in his head. “...are not...” something cracking. Something splintering. “...alone.”

Tony tried to cry out, but every word broke apart in his throat. He felt tears slip across his temples.

And then the illusion lifted.

Loki stood above him, glaring down his decidedly unscarred face. “Now, as for Ms Potts...” he began, absently twisting a knife through the air like an acrobat “...I understand she is rather terrified of _mutilation_.”

Tony's jaw trembled. “Don't.” he begged “I'll do it...whatever you want...just...don't.” He tried to blink his eyes clear, but for that split-second of dark he nearly screamed. “Please.”

Loki lay a hand on his shoulder, and holstered the knife. “You have made a wise choice, Anthony. Your ancestors would not think less of you.” The touch was brief, but in a twisted way, comforting. Loki left his side.

“I...” Tony felt the sting of tears leeching into cracked skin. “Can I...will you let me see her?”

“No.” Loki replied in monotone.

“I just want...” He bit back every last bit of hate, every cruel word. “Please. Just let me say sorry. For everything.”

His shoulders rose, like he was preparing to attack, about to turn, then... “No.” he said again, just as plainly. And he left.

_Oh God, Pep. I'm sorry._

 

#### Part 3 – The Black Widow

One thing that most people didn't know about Natasha Romanova, that _no-one_ knew about Natasha Romanova, was that she was quick to decide who she liked. Usually within the first four seconds of meeting them. It had been that way with Barton, and with Steve. Even with Maria. Of course, there was absolutely no reason to let them know. It only made her vulnerable. Or it led to talking about _'feelings'_ ; one of Steve's more annoying habits.

But now, studying the cold, calculated smirk of 'Mary', was one of the very few times that Natasha actively hated someone in under four seconds. She wasn't fully sure why; something of a combination of that detached look in her eyes, the loosely folded arms, and the confidence of a woman who has always known that she was beautiful. Someone who knew she only had to wait patiently, and the world would give her everything she wanted. Or she would take it.

Someone very familiar.

Fury had played it wrong, obviously. After an hour of mixed threats and bargains, had tried to switch to 'save humanity'. From their it was a pointless detour down to 'morality' and 'family', eventually ending up with 'you can be a hero'. It wouldn't have surprised her if he'd started spouting gospel to try and get a rise out of Mary.

“You sounded desperate.” Natasha told him, watching Mary through the one-way glass.

“I am desperate.” Fury muttered, rubbing his brow. “Can you get her to talk?”

Natasha didn't miss the way Mary caught sight of all four cameras in the room. “I don't know.”

Fury stared in shock. “You don't...?”

“I'm kidding, Nick.” Natasha allowed herself a grin. “I can get her to cooperate.”

“You never call me Nick...” His puzzled reply made her grin wider. He definitely noticed that. “Agent Romanov, are you feeling alright?”

“I was just wondering why you never call me _'humanity's last hope'_.” she spoke impassively.

“Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up.” He growled, and her smile caught on. “You finally decided we're on the same team, huh? Took you long enough.”

“Longer than most.”

Eight seconds.

“So, you gonna fix this or not?” Fury smiled. “'Cause you know that you're humanity's last hope.”

“You really know how to make a girl feel special.” Natasha replied, and nodded to the cameras. “Two days if they stay on. Five minutes if they're off.”

“Really? Five minutes?” Fury raised an eyebrow.

“No recording. No transmission. This doesn't go beyond you and me.”

Fury folded his arms, then thought better of whatever he was about to say. “Five minutes. Alright... Ten bucks says you can't.”

Natasha mirrored his gesture. “Twenty.”

“You're cocky today.”

“I'm good today.” Natasha replied. “And I'm ready to get a win against Loki.”

“For the...” Fury pointed to her reattached finger, freshly scarred.

“No, not that. For what he did to Steve.” She glared down at her finger. It wasn't the first time she'd got a scar from the enemy, and it wouldn't be the last, but she'd be damned if she let anyone mess with Steve like that again.

“Just when I think I understand you, Agent Romanov...” Fury gave the order to deactivate the cameras. As soon as they were downed, he turned back to her. “It's your show.”

She nodded once, and stepped into the room. 

Her show. Her stage. And the act she knew by heart.

“My name is Agent Natasha Romanova. Agent of Shield. Formerly Agent of the KGB. Formerly graduate of the red room.” She matched Mary's glare. “Also known as The Black Widow.” She took the seat opposite, and smiled. “And you are going to tell me everything you know.”

Mary sneered, refusing to speak.

“This interview is not being recorded.” Natasha continued. “But there is a Shield agent listening into our conversation. You've already met him.”

Still silent. Arms folded. Gaze drifting to the side.

“I know you're not afraid of me. You're not afraid of him. You're not afraid that there's an alien god laying waste to our planet, and if you met him I'd bet you wouldn't be afraid of him either.” Natasha sank back into her chair. “So you're going to help me because you want to. Not because you're afraid.”

Mary gave a snort of laughter.

“But first, I'm going to tell you a story.” She double checked each of the cameras, looking for the red indicator on each one. “Do you know how I got the title _'Black Widow'_? I killed people. A lot of people. Men mostly.”

It seemed that had got Mary's interest.

“A lot of them deserved it. Some of them...well, it's a grey area.” Natasha let herself simply smile for a moment. “I have to say I was impressed with your number. Pretty good, for a civilian.”

Mary's mouth opened. “What's yours?” The first words out of her lips seemed cool and practised. It was only her eyes that gave away the excitement.

“Back then, a hundred and eighty four.” She had to admit, she was a little proud of the way Mary's eyes lit up. “It's got higher since then.” Natasha mirrored the way Mary had uncrossed her arms, and rested them on the table. “There are two ways that you can become Black Widow, once you reach her number; you kill a turned Widow, or you revenge a Widow's killer.” She was reaching back, back into the red days. “When they found Demitrov, strung up in barbed wire, they thought he'd been hanging there a day. They underestimated.”

Mary was interested now. She was getting ideas.

“I had a student; A smart girl. Fast. Ruthless. Good with a crossbow. More committed than anyone I've ever met. Her name was Dahlia. That was the name they gave her in the red room.” They had given her a lot of things in the red room. They had taken more. “She made me proud. And then, she reached my number.” Natasha maintained eye contact. She wouldn't lose her now.

“And then?” Mary asked. Before she had even realised it, Mary was sitting forward, intently listening to every word.

“And then she wanted the mantle.” She could almost feel Fury breathing down her neck. “But she told me that she didn't _want_ to hurt me. She just wanted the honour to change hands once she beat my number. She told me that we didn't have to do it this way.” Natasha broke into measured anger. “She wanted to break tradition. I told her to kill me, or I'd do the same to her. Because it's not right, is it? You don't get something like that without sacrifice. You don't get to cheat it, because it _means something_. If I gave it to her, then I'm not giving the title, I'm wiping it out of existence. I'm taking it away from every Widow who earned it with her blood, and lost it with her life.” She took a slow breath, and waited for the reply.

“You killed her?” Mary was breathing sharply, eyes wild and staring. “You had to kill her.”

“She fought hard. I won.” Natasha smiled. “And now, Mary, I'm going help you. Because I guarantee you, that the woman who has your title didn't earn it.”

Mary began to glare. “You're wrong.”

“You think so?” Natasha shrugged. “Maybe I am. But all of Shield's intel, which put you fifty feet underground, has picked through her life and has found her clean.” She opened Mary's file, and spread it out in front of her, along with a spare of the Doctor's.

She stared. She frantically tore through the few pages there were.

“I don't know what you are, or how it all works. I don't need to. All I know is that she didn't beat your record. She broke it. And if you let her get away with that...” Natasha let her knuckles tense, then relax. “...then it's not worth anything.”

Horror, desperation, gripped at that calculated face and tore it apart.

“Do you want that to be your legacy?”

And that was enough. After that, Mary broke. She told Natasha everything she knew, what little she knew.

Afterwards, Natasha almost wished she hadn't.

 

#### Part 4 – The Call

He didn't understand it. Any of it. He didn't know if he was awake or dreaming. The way the walls seemed to bend around him, the way the floor rose up and gripped his feet, pushing him onwards...none of it made sense...but it was...he had to...

The sound. The sound that coated the walls. The sound that snaked its way into his ears, deeper, into his brain. That tore into his mind. That drained his blood and replaced it with something...else. And it made him stronger. Stronger than he had ever been. Stronger than Extremis.

The air was warmer now, thick with music. Breathing him in.

And the further he followed, the stronger it wrenched at his chest. It hurt, oh God, how it hurt. Like someone was carving him open, in ways he couldn't heal. There was something...something empty, sucking, draining...cold and...nothing.

And the sound wasn't sweet. Not anymore. It was...he didn't have a name for it. He only knew the way it tore at his throat.

Killian heard his own voice, and he was screaming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter inspired by Santana feat. Everlast - Put Your Lights On
> 
> If this was a TV series, think of this chapter as part one of the mid-season finale.
> 
> Thanks for reading. 
> 
> x Pinch


	18. A Cold Man

### Chapter 52 – A Cold Man

#### Part 1 – The Listener

Savin smiled. Helplessly. His face started to ache from it, but he didn't care. For the first time in a lifetime, he didn't feel that pain, that weight on his right shoulder. The one that had never seemed to go away. The air was filled with morphine, it was on her lips.

_“Eric.”_ her voice called.

There was something blocking. Something solid. He couldn't get to her.

No.

He tried to speak, but only made a dazed sound, like a cartoon.

_“I need you to do something for me, Eric.”_

A wall. A door. A lock. He could break a lock.

Everything was starting to focus again, from the edges in. He knew that voice. He knew her. But why did she sound...

“Savin.” the other voice was harsh, jagged.

_“Eric.”_ she spoke again. _“I need your help.”_

He could break a lock. He could break a door. He could tear down walls.

Walls were only dust.

“Goddamnit Savin!” Killian barked, pulling sharply on his arm.

He cast him off without a second thought, each muscle moving with a will of its own.

There was silence. Then a clatter of bone against rock.

“Fuck...” Focus came in pounding waves as Extremis re-built Savin's skull.

He was in that same dank stretch of corridor he had been warned a hundred times to stay clear of.

“Feel better?” Killian hissed, slapping him on the back of the head. “Let's get the fuck out of here, before _he_ starts asking why you're drooling at his doorstep.” Killian marched down the corridors, before pulling him into an unused side-room. “What the fuck, Savin?!”

“I don't know...” Savin tried to reply, rubbing that old ache in his right shoulder.

The lights seemed so harsh. So bright. His head was still pounding; extremis should have fixed that by now.

“You don't know?! You don't fucking know?!” Killian raged, eyes glowing bright orange.

He opened his mouth, only to close it again. A breath. He tried again. “I just think...”

“No. You don't think. I don't pay you to think!”

The fluorescent light flickered loudly. A slow, irregular ticking. A hammer.

“Just shut up, Savin.” Killian paced.

Savin stood silently, counting the ticking sounds, feeling the pressure build.

“At least this gives me a reason to kill the bitch...” Killian spat.

He felt an unexpected drop, like the world gave out under him. “What?” he asked.

“What do you mean _'what'_?” Killian turned on his heel. “You felt it. That...” He was paler in a way that Savin had never seen before. His adam's apple rose and fell with a dry swallow. “You heard the...” The serum in his veins shone brighter than normal. “Jesus Christ, Savin. Tell me you fucking felt it.”

Savin didn't know what to say, and could only shake his head.

Killian forced a whistling breath between his teeth, and gave the order. “Exit strategy.”

'No' was the one word that jumped onto his tongue. He couldn't point to a reason, not one he'd want to share with his boss. Just a...just an ache.

“We're out in two days. I've had enough of this magic bullshit.” Killian muttered.

“What about Pepper Potts?” Savin began, grasping. “You said you wanted...”

“Fuck Pepper Potts.” Killian raised his finger in the air and started pointing around the place. “She is not fucking worth this. Let Loki destroy her, I don't fucking care.”

“But...” he looking into Killian's face and saw...fear. He couldn't compete with fear. “...yes, boss.” He spoke, and he felt a twinge.

_Eric._

_I need your help._

 

#### Part 2 – A Cold Man

Fury had hoped that the jet back to the helicarrier would give him a chance to rest. He had lain back in his chair, rested his head against his hands, and tried to shut out the world. It didn't take long after that to notice that someone else had arrived. “Loki.” he muttered. “Must be Tuesday, huh?” he slowly opened his eye, but didn't change his stance.

Loki smirked. “I had wondered how long you would leave me waiting.” He was sitting comfortably in the chair next to Fury. No cane. Possible concealed weapons. This time he was wearing something a lot lighter than his full suit of armour; it looked like a pinstriped three-piece suit. 

Dark green, Fury guessed. He didn't bother to raise the lights to know for sure. Instead, he reached out and pressed the intercom. “Natasha.” he broke the radio-silence. “Divert course. Loki's on-board.”

_“Want me to tail-spin?”_ she replied flatly.

“Tell you what, just keep us over water. I can make my mind up later. Fury out.”

Loki pressed his hand to his chest. “Nicholas, you wound me.” he chuckled, and offered a glass.

“Loki. I can't keep drinking with you.” He sighed, saw that his guest wasn't taking no for an answer and reluctantly accepted. “I am too goddamn old to do this to my liver.”

Loki took off his jacket, and folded it neatly on the back of his chair.“I am far older than you, Nicholas. It has never done me any harm.” he smirked, and poured from the most jewel-caked pile of platinum crap that Fury had ever seen. “A gift, from an influential friend. It is rather tasteless, isn't it?”

“Would this friend happen to be involved in Russian politics?” Fury hazarded, inhaling vodka fumes.

Loki poured a second glass for himself. “Are you interrogating me, Nicholas?”

“I know you want to brag, so just go ahead.” Fury let a mouthful burn its way down his throat.

“Well, if you insist.” He grinned, draining the glass in one go. “No details, of course, but let us simply say that family ties may be broken when a father would sell his son to keep an empire alive. Fortunately, the son and I have come to a mutual understanding.” His finger slipped along the rim of the glass. “Russia will be mine within the week, Nicholas. Feel free to share that with the little spider. Her country will gladly accept her back, with open arms. In fact, I can think of several positions in which she would be suitable...” he purred like a goddamn jaguar.

Now, how the fuck could he know that the intercom was still running? Maybe Loki didn't know. Maybe he was just full of hot air. Although, it would be just his fucking luck if Loki had learned to read minds too.

“And I expect that _'muffin basket'_ that you so generously offered.” He smiled as he poured again.

He was making goddamn jokes now? “Yeah? What's the address? I'll send it with five hundred of my best delivery guys.” Fury replied, balancing the line between drinking politely and not getting hammered. That line was very fucking thin on Vodka.

Loki laughed and slapped him on the back. “That's what I like to hear, Nicholas. Oh, you are more fun like this. Not a cowering pup, baring its belly. No. I like you with teeth. It suits you better.” He filled Fury's glass without asking.

“Well aren't you sparkles and sunshine today.” Fury grunted.

“I am celebrating.” he grinned, leaning back into the chair, leather shoes resting on Fury's table.

Fury didn't like other peoples' feet on his goddamn coffee table. “And you thought of me...”

“Well, soon I may have no other adversaries left. And it seemed rather self-congratulatory to share a drink with a sycophant.” Loki mused, turning over the bottle in his hand. “It looks rather like a crystallised horse shit, doesn't it?”

“I don't know about horse, but hell yes.” Fury looked harder. “Are those diamonds?”

Loki shrugged.

“I gotta get some of your friends.” he paused. “You do know what diamonds are, right?”

“I am still rather behind on my reading. I believe they are the stones used to purchase a woman's graces, yes?” Loki picked them out of the bottle, one by one. “They do not work.”

“That why you're celebrating like a guy who doesn't want to go home?”

Loki laughed once, but didn't say anything more.

Fury pushed it a little further. “You didn't tell me; did she do something to piss you off, or did you take her just to mess with us?”

Loki sighed slowly, stretching in place. Not aggressively tensed, but as though he was bored with the question. “What is so wrong with this wretched realm, that a man cannot simply fall in love?” he replied in a way that was almost manufactured to make Fury roll his eye.

_“Nothing says 'I love you' like releasing someone from captivity.”_ Natasha spoke over the intercom. _“He already knows I'm listening, Nick.”_

“Uh huh?” Fury's free hand tensed on the arm of his chair. Quarter of an inch from the trigger button.

Loki laughed coldly, setting his drink down on the glass surface of the table. “I have been considering you, spider. Of ways to pull off your little legs.” There was something boiling up inside the man. Hissing.

Fury decided to put a stop to it. “Have you tried listening to her?”

The god turned his head.

“I mean, hell if I know anything about women, right? Never been married. Never had anything last longer than a mission.” Fury watched Loki's gaze. “But it seems to me everyone wants to be listened to. People aren't stupid. Give 'em long enough and they'll tell you what they want.”

Loki started to smile thinly. “And what do you want, Nicholas?” The glass rested back in his lap. His leather shoes creaked on the coffee table.

“What do _I_ want?” He couldn't believe what he was hearing.

No. You don't get to do this.

“Yes, Nicholas. I want to know what you want.” he smiled like the devil. “I owe you much. My kingdom. My prize. The heads of my enemies. I am indebted to you for a great deal of satisfaction. A great deal of...amusement. Surely I can repay you in some manner.” He took a drink and re-poured his glass. “You have done more for my cause than most of my allies combined...How would you like to be a knight under the banner of Loki?” he chuckled.

“You know what I goddamn want?” Fury shook his head. “I want for the world to go back the way it was before you and all your little space friends showed up. But you knew that, didn't you?” He put the glass to his lips, and it was empty by the time he was standing. “I wanna be twenty-five again. I wanna see out of both eyes. I wanna be the toughest guy in my own goddamn plane. I wanna drink a beer in the Bahamas and not have to worry that some asshole is gonna try to blow up Paris.” He voice was starting to rise. He couldn't fight it. He didn't want to. “But you know what I want more than all of that? I want you to take your feet off my goddamn table!”

The god stared back. In a slow slinking motion, he moved both of his feet to the floor.

“What the hell is wrong with you anyway?!” Fury found himself yelling. “You think you can come in here and make nice while you threaten my agents...while you threaten _my family_?!”

“My apologies, Nicholas.” Loki smirked. Fury saw him smirk. “I did not mean to upset you. I thought you knew our game.”

“No. You thought you knew me.” He wanted so badly to scream and curse, and use every petty insult he could think of, but that wouldn't get the message through. It wouldn't be enough. “There is a shoot-to-kill order in place. As soon as any of your allies are identified, they will be stopped with extreme prejudice. This includes the controlled and presumed controlled. This includes Doctor Black.”

Loki's expression twisted. He spoke clearly. Softly. “Do you threaten me?” Each word slow and precise.

“Are you threatened?” Fury gave in equal reply.

Loki drank, and gave a humourless laugh.

“Answer me; are you threatened?”

“Very demanding, aren't we, Nicholas?” Loki sneered. “Very well. Kill the whore for all I care. I can find another to warm my bed.”

The intercom buzzed. _“I thought love meant never having to say 'kill the whore'.”_ Natasha droned.

Loki's upper lip retreated, bearing a gleaming row of teeth. “Speak again, spider, and I will drown you in your own blood. I will pluck out your eyes, stuff your sockets with shit, and have maggots hollow your rotting skull!”

_“Before or after the wedding?”_

Loki cast the bottle at the wall of the plane.

Fury held his breath, waiting for the hull to breech. Luckily the bottle crumpled instead.

Titanium my ass.

“Rescind the order.” Loki said, sitting perfectly still, staring at the wall.

“Take back your threats against Agent Hill's family.” A stray air-current buffeted the plane, but it didn't move Fury from his stance.

“Is _that_ all that this is about?” Loki stared with incredulity. “I had no idea you were all so sentimental.”

There was a certain phrase about pots and kettles that Fury was thinking of.

Loki nodded, seething slightly. “Very well. I release my claim upon the girl.”

_Release my claim._ Fucking entitled asshole.

“Just like that?” Fury asked.

“Why not?” Loki replied. “Perhaps you need a grander statement? Very well...” he tugged on the edges of his waistcoat, straightened his shirt and stared into the sky “...let it be witnessed by all here and in Valhalla, that I release claim upon the child, kin of Maria Hill. May the Norns curse me in my sleep.” he waved his hands dramatically in the air. “Are you satisfied, Nicholas?”

“All that for a warm bed, huh?” Fury scowled. “I'm beginning to think you might be lying to me, Loki.”

Loki smiled at him, once, and looked like he would burst into laughter. “Never underestimate the lure of a warm bed to a cold man.” He took the last drink from his glass, and vanished from the plane.

Of course, Fury spent a good while waiting for him to pop right back up again, like craziest whack-a-mole in the galaxy.

The plane corrected course in minutes. It took longer to break the silence.

There was a buzz over the intercom, before Natasha spoke. _“Do you want me to rescind the order, Sir?”_

“Negative.” he replied.

 

#### Part 3 – Hail to the King

It took three more visits to several disreputable institutions before Loki returned home.

_'Home'_ ; he chuckled at the thought. _'Home'_ used to be several floors above the dungeon.

Of course he had no plan. He had made several attempts at it, but now he was simply tipsy enough not to care. He would have to make some form of concession, that was obvious, but he could not imagine anything that would divert her attention away from...Anthony Stark.

No, no. He tried not to think on the man for too long. It gave him bad humours, and made him a little too sober. He would think of her. He would indulge in her. And by morning, perhaps he would have a real plan.

He pressed lightly against the door, feeling it gently give way, and by the time the image before him reached his brain, the door was snapping shut behind him.

Caitlyn lay reclined amongst his silken sheets; a collar of dark lace about her throat, the thin golden chain of which caressed her otherwise naked form, spread bare before him. Her face was painted deliciously like a cheap whore, hair pinned loosely.

Perhaps _morning_ was a little ambitious.

She was not sleeping, but watching silently, each breath seeming to draw the air from his own lips. She waited for him to speak. He did not. She sat upright, her gaze never leaving his own, and let down her hair.

“What do you want?” he finally asked, having trouble closing his mouth afterwards.

_Anything._

The little minx smiled at him. “I thought this was what you wanted.” she trailed the chain across her skin, over her left ankle, across her thigh.

_Half of his kingdom, his own submission, anything. Oh, Norns, if she wanted his blood, he would have given that too._

Something in him still held reason, though, enough to make use of the opportunity. He folded his arms. “But good girls deserve presents, from their _Master_.” he dipped into the word, let it drift through the air.

Her hand tensed on the sheets, in a way that rather tickled him.

If she wished to play this game, she would have to play it properly.

“I am waiting.” He spoke, tapping his finger as though merely impatient and not trying to tear out of his skin.

Her lips tensed as though they were holding something particularly unpleasant. “You had promised me an open door... _Master_.”

“Whose Master?” he corrected her, as his cock strained for release.

“My Master.” she replied with obvious hesitancy.

This would be beyond fun. “There are certain privileges which can be earned and lost.” he sighed, and moved to lean at the wall by the bed. “And I do believe that it becomes twice as hard to earn such things a second time.”

“Well,” she began, words dripping like honey from her painted lips. “What would _my master_ suggest?”

The thought of those same lips leaving fat red streaks across his cock...If he did not have her soon he would simply burst. “I would suggest, my pet, that you kneel.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...and a Happy New Year.
> 
> :)


	19. Lovely Chains

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it's been a while!  
> Rest assured, I didn't go off and forget about you guys. My laptop has been sitting open and waiting patiently for me to get my head together.  
> This is definitely one of the kinkier chapters I've written (or at least committed to the internet!)  
> Remember kids, safe sane and consensual! (These are three words that rarely apply to Loki).  
> Enjoy!

### Chapter 53 – Lovely Chains

#### Part 1 – The Master

Loki watched her hesitantly stir from the bed, golden chain swaying gently before her, curving against her breasts, jingling as it bounced between her legs. He wondered if it felt cold against her skin. He hoped it did.

As she knelt before him, with all of the grace of one attending at a temple, he saw a kind of clear serenity in her features. A dignity. Oh, the foolish woman. If she had only given him the slightest bit of disdain, he would have let it pass. By Borr's great axe, he would have. But not now. Not while she played the saint. Not while she took away all of his fun.

He cupped her cheek in his left palm, and brought her gaze to his own. “Oh, pet...you did not expect it to be that easy, did you?” he asked with a mocking grin, turning her chain over in his hand. “No, no.” he willed a touch of cold into the coils before letting them fall, watching her wince as they bit into her skin. He turned and left her where she knelt. “A royal whore may pay her dues with a good suck...” he rolled back one of the partially concealed compartments in the door of the wardrobe, and pulled on a pair of tightly fitted leather gloves.

He swore he could hear her whine a little as the material creaked around his curling fingers.

“But you, my dear pet...” he made sure all of his toys were in full view while he made his selection “...are an unruly bitch who needs breaking.” he caressed each in turn, finally settling on a flexible leather crop with an unusually thick grip.

She glanced from the crop to his grin, disgust on her face. _There_ was that fire that burned so brightly. 

“Come here.” he ordered softly.

She stood with the look of someone asked to traverse through manure.

“Pet.” he raised the crop instantly. “Did I say that you were allowed to walk? I think not.”

She glared at him, and bent to her knees.

“Now, or you will feel my impatience.” he brought the crop down against his gloved palm, with a menacing smack.

Slowly, by each slinking step, she crawled to him. The chain resonated its sweet cry as it trailed between those bent limbs. Her breasts swayed, her buttocks cantered, and all the while her eyes burned hatred into him.

Oh, such beauty.

He allowed himself to smile, as he crouched level with her. “A word of warning, pet...” He drew the chain up in one hand, wrapping it tightly around his glove with less than an arms-length of slack. “No will have little currency with your _Master_.” He stood, and tugged on the chain to force her back to kneeling. “If you find you can endure no more, you should say...” he smirked “... _Heimdall_. Do you understand?”

“Yes...master.” her lips pursed for a moment, a flush beginning to spread across her cheeks.

“The word?” he asked.

“Heimdall.” Even unknowing what it meant, she could surely sense something distasteful in its use.

Loki trailed the tip of his crop over her blushing skin. “I like you in this colour, pet. I think I shall paint you in it.”

But how best to accomplish such a feat?

“I think...” he grinned, a sweet tingling sensation spreading over his spine. “...that my pet has a new collar, and it simply must be shown off.”

Her eyes went wide as he pulled her towards the door. “No. No, Loki!” she spoke out of reflex.

He turned his head. “Did I hear _'no'_?” he released the door from his grasp, and brought the crop down into his hand once again, rattling the chain. “It seems the bitch needs further training.”

He was going to enjoy this.

 

#### Part 2 – Lovely Chains

“Kneel on the edge of the bed, facing away from me.” Loki ordered, turning the collar so that the chain now fell against her back.

Caitlyn tried not to feel her heart racing, her pulse throbbing against the lace at her throat. As he pulled it tighter.

“You will place your arms flat upon the mattress, and spread your legs wide; your cunt bare and open to me. Do you understand?”

She couldn't help as shiver spread over her skin. “Yes, Master.” She hated that each time those words were getting easier to say. She stood, and immediately felt leather cracking against her buttocks. She yelped.

“Now, really. Is it so difficult for you to follow a simple set of commands?” Loki breathed against her neck. He pulled on the collar so that she was flush against him. This time he brought the crop harshly against her thighs. “I am instructing you, pet. You will thank me for doing so.”

A hell of a lot of words streamed through her mind, as the raw ache on her backside and thighs burned. As he pushed her against his rough clothes, and ran the crop over every inch of her naked skin. “Thank you, master.” she forced between her lips.

“Better.” he whispered. “Now, what is your issue with crawling?”

“None, master.” she muttered. If she bit any harder into her lip she was going to taste blood.

“You are not stupid, are you pet?” he asked, running the crop against the outside of her right thigh, then bringing it down hard.

“Ah! No, Master!” she screeched.

He was grinning now, she could feel it. It would only take a moment for her to grab that crop and beat him over the fucking head with it. But he was stronger than her. Much stronger.

She swallowed her pride. “Please, Master.” she really tried to sound sincere “Please, let me crawl for you, Master. Let me do it right.” She heard the words that came out of her mouth. She felt something like sea-sickness; nauseated and flushed at the same time.

“Next time, failure will be much more painful for you.” Loki spoke as he forced her roughly back onto her knees.

_More_ painful? She began the humiliating crawl across the room, only to be halted by the pull of the chain.

“Slower.” was his only reply, and he released a little more of the chain.

She could feel his eyes on her cold and exposed skin. On her intimate flesh. She felt his gaze linger on it. She trembled as she reached the bed, and climbed to kneel upon it, her arms flat on the mattress. Her backside in the air.

The crop struck her left buttock, and she cried out.

“Wider.” Loki ordered, his voice cold but his breathing shallow.

She felt her eyes begin to sting almost as harshly as her bruised and throbbing skin, and she spread her legs as wide as they would go. “Thank you...Master.” she mumbled.

_You twisted sadistic fuck._

One gloved hand settled against her knee, softly stroking upwards, its leather cool and almost soothing; the other wound the chain tighter, until his fist was not only pulling at her neck, but at her hair too. The crop pressed firmly into the top of her spine.

She was waiting for him to do something, to say something. Anything. Anything but this. She had never felt so exposed, so dirty under his gaze. And growing wetter with every second. Oh, god, she hoped he hadn't noticed.

The hand on her thigh crept upwards, and gently rubbed her beaten skin. “Tell me, pet, what have you done wrong?” For once, he seemed to avoid her cunt. Somehow that made it worse.

“Ah!” she cried as he twisted her hair painfully. As she felt sparking heat creeping over every muscle, every sinew.

He spanked her tender buttocks with stinging force and she screamed again. “Thank me.” there was a slight grunting when he spoke, and once again he twisted her hair around his fist.

A second blow came before she managed to speak, and she was horrified to find that her screams were beginning to sound more like moans. “Thank you, Master!” she cried once, and then after each of the following six smacks.

No. No no no no. Caitlyn, you are a grown woman, a respected member of society. You're a feminist for fuck's sake!

“What have you done wrong, pet?” he growled. “Has my bitch been disobedient?”

No. She was absolutely not going to answer that.

“Should I teach you obedience?” he threatened, releasing her hair and trailing the crop down her spine. As soon as it reached her buttocks, he lifted it into the air.

“No!” she blurted out. “Please, _Master_...”

What? Don't hit me? Don't hit me _with that_?

“Will you be obedient?” Loki asked, as he slowly pulled on the chain, bringing her up by the collar. He brushed against her side as she knelt, easily off-balance.

She caught a glimpse of him; he had never seemed so...dark. So thrilling. Her heart pounded in her chest, rattling down through her stomach to where her cunt seemed to twitch at his every word. “Yes.” she whispered, and heard him laugh.

“Do you think I believe that?” he chuckled “May the lakes of Helheim boil!” his cold, gloved hand curled around her neck, grasping her jaw to pin her still. “My whore is many things, but a good liar is not one of them.”

She shuddered as he brought the crop against her thighs, softly at first. Each movement was pressed firmly against his unforgiving form.

“Do you remember the word I gave you?” He whispered, letting his hand slip to her throat.

“Yes.” She replied, bracing herself for the coming strike.

“Then why haven't you used it?” he purred, “Perhaps I have been too gentle?”

He brought the crop down with a hideous crack, and she screamed. Not for long, though. Never for very long. No matter how harshly it stung, or how her eyes streamed, nothing took away that deep ache. It only grew until she was little more than a mess of sensation and desire.

Loki's voice broke the silence. “How often do you fuck yourself?”

“I...” she trembled as he pressed the thick end of the crop against her inner thigh.

“Now, don't pretend you're afraid of this.” he sneered as he edged the crop higher “We both know you're as wet as a bitch in heat. How often do you fuck yourself?”

She moaned as he began to choke her, slowly. To move the thick leather handle into her. “Every night...I'm not with you.”

“And what do you think of?” he asked “When you writhe in desperate heat, lust dripping from your fingers...” He released her neck, to take her own tensed hand in his and guide it downwards. His breath was heavy and cold on her skin. “Fuck yourself for me.”

With little hesitation, she did as she was ordered, the woven leather scraping gently against her swollen flesh. Filling her so incompletely. Until two leather-clad fingers joined her. “Loki.” she sighed.

He immediately removed his hand, and forced the crop to almost painful depths. “You will call me _Master_.” he hissed.

“Yes Master.”

“I think, perhaps, my bitch hasn't learned her lesson. Perhaps I need to leave her out in the streets and let her get fucked by every stinking dog who thinks to walk past!” he pinned her harshly with the crop, letting her feel the hardness that pressed into her back. “Perhaps she might like it!”

She winced. She only closed her eyes for a second, but by the time they were opened the grey concrete walls were replaced by deep sickly pink sashes and gold embroidery, and she was kneeling before a vicious, sneering crowd.

The way they stared. The hate. The lust.

“If I told you to, would you let them fuck you?” he began to slowly draw the crop from her, letting two fingers take its place. “Would you let them fuck your mouth? Take turns choking your throat with their fat weeping cocks as you drip with the seed of a hundred other men?” he pumped slowly into her with his fingers. Two became three.

“Yes, Master!” she replied with a groan, as white heat curled inside her.

“Tell me what you want, pet.” His movements continued, but he seemed to shift slightly on the bed behind her. His breathing shallowed. The chain tightened.

She didn't think. There were no thoughts beyond the two words on her lips. “Use me.”

_“Fuck.”_ Loki hissed, and drove himself deeply into her.

The scene faded with each desperate thrust, and both of them sank into the sheets.

In the brief moments of clarity between groans, Caitlyn remembered to gasp for breath. Gloved hands tightened their grip, fingers bruising her thighs. Everything bruised. Everything hurt. None of it mattered.

His sweat dripped onto her spine. He began to growl.

Her body tensed, and seized, and softened in waves of thoughtless pleasure. In bright, pure light. Bright enough to burn down to her bones. And everything hurt. Everything screamed like she was on fire.

And then it was cold. And still.

And she cried.

“Are you...did I hurt you?” Loki asked, curling himself around her shaking form. “Caitlyn, I would have stopped if...”

She shook her head, and let herself sink into his arms.

He unfastened the collar from her neck and discarded it to the floor. “This is so little of what I am, of what I need.” He ran his now bare fingers over her skin, healing every bruise, every mark. “Caitlyn, please...”

“I liked it.”

His hands jolted back, as though he had been stung. “You...liked it?”

She finally turned to see his face.

A smile curved his thin lips. “Would you like to join me for dinner?”

 

#### Part 3 – Seasons Change

The corridors seemed to stretch on for miles. Maybe they did. The golden ceilings towered above her, glittering her shrunken reflection. Like they needed to make her feel any smaller. If any of the majestic golden drapes fell on her, she'd probably be crushed to death before anyone could pull her out.

Everything on Asgard was brighter and louder and more brilliant...even the silence seemed louder.

By the time Jane had reached the vaulted door, she had nearly convinced herself to turn away. “Miss...um...Lady Sif?” she asked, trying not to feel drowned by her own echo. “I need to talk to you.”

Maybe she heard something like a grunt, maybe it was her own breath.

“The others, they're busy, and there's no-one else...” she tripped over her own words “Not that I wouldn't talk to you if there was! I really would...” she sighed, and heard her own pathetic voice die out down the corridor. “...I would appreciate it.”

Jane was smart. Smart enough to know when people were hiding things from her. Smart enough to know when she wasn't welcome. Not smart enough to give up.

“Lady Sif, please. I just want to...” she stopped with a squeak as the door flew open.

“I have nothing to say to you!” Lady Sif barked, before slamming the door in Jane's face.

She was weak. She was pathetic. But that wasn't enough to stop her. Not since that night, and the smile on his face. Those teeth. His knife.

Her fingers trembled as they ran across the patch of shorn hair. The silver band on her arm gripped like his hand. She had tried a hundred times to remove it. Everyone had. She guessed it must be Loki's last sick joke; she was free, but now he'd never let go. “Now you listen to me!” she shouted in a half-broken voice. “I know you don't like me, and I don't care! Loki is loose on Earth. He's killing my people, and you're doing nothing! You cowards! You're all cowards!” she gave an angry kick against the door and immediately regretted it.

The door burst open. “And what would you have me do?!” Sif growled. The room she was in looked like a hunting lodge, with the heads of strange animals, knives and axes covering almost every inch of the walls. “The bifrost is destroyed. The only way to return to Midgard is by that gauntlet and the band which was manufactured for _you_.” she looked ready to spit “Perhaps you and I alone should face Loki's armies?!”

“Armies? He didn't have...” She felt a strange sensation now, like half of the ground had crumbled under her.

Lady Sif snorted a mocking laugh. “Oh, you poor little doe.” she folded her arms across her metal breastplate. “How long has it been since you left Midgard?”

She...she remembered it was evening when she had arrived. And then she had spent the day following Thor around the castle while he made battle plans, and then Heimdall had fallen...

“Three days?” she said, with less conviction than she should have.

Sif stared into her. “And how long on your Earth?”

No.

“The seasons have changed, Jane Foster. Summer has ended on Midgard.”

“No.” Jane shook her head. “It can't be. It doesn't make sense.” Her eyes brimmed with tears. Now she felt herself falling.

It was over. It was too late.

Anyone else might have shown a little pity. Sif ground her teeth. “Instead of weeping, I suggest you do something useful. Perhaps you should learn to sew!” she spat, before slamming the door again.

Her legs gave out underneath her, and she slipped to the floor. She tried to imagine Eric and Darcy somewhere safe, but when she closed her eyes, all she saw was him sitting over her with that knife. And it was dark. And it was closing in. 

“Midgard people are strong.”

Jane jumped, nearly screamed, then the tears started streaming.

Hogun was crouched at her side. He placed his heavy hand onto her shoulder. “They will survive Loki.”

She wished, oh god, she wished she could just stop crying. “I'm sorry...” she whined. “That's the first nice thing anyone's said to me since I got here.” She grasped out and hugged him, even if he was the second most awkward person on this planet. “I thought...” she sobbed “...Thor said you didn't talk.”

“Talk too much, no-one listens.” he replied, patting her once one the back.

She gasped loud breaths back into her chest, face stinging. She didn't hear Sif's door open the third time.

“You cry like a stuck pig.” Sif said, glaring less than before. “Alright. I apologise.” she shrugged, arms folded “Stop looking at me like that Hogun; you've the same beady little eyes as my mother.”

Without warning, Sif hoisted Jane onto her feet.

“Well, if you and I are to stop that filthy Rassragr, you will need to stop whimpering.” Sif grunted, and pulled her towards her rooms. “Yes, Hogun, I know what I said. Now fetch the sweet ale. Jane Fosterdottir strikes me as a girlish drinker.”

It took an embarrassingly long time for Jane to realise that she had been insulted. “Hey, I...” she began before being pushed down onto a really comfortable chair beside a roasting fire. “...thank you...” she mumbled as a goblet was thrust into her hand.

“Drink.” Sif commanded from the seat opposite.

“Yes, mam.” Jane muttered, and immediately choked on something that tasted like lighter fluid flavoured with cough syrup.

Sif snorted and took a hearty swig from her goblet, finishing it before Jane had taken a second sip. “So, you cannot fight or drink.” She looked over to Hogun, who barely even blinked back. “I am _trying_ to be nice!”

Jane tried to see any reaction in Hogun. She wasn't even sure if he was breathing anymore. And now Sif was trying to stare him down. Jane cleared her throat. When that didn't help, she asked “What's a _Rasrarger_?”

Sif broke out in roaring laughter, while Hogun started to turn purple.

Jane's eyes grew wide when Sif leant over and whispered in her ear, providing wild hand-gestures for demonstration. “Oh...” she started. Well, maybe he was...not that there was anything wrong with...

Hogun was about to pass out.

“Tell me, Jane Fosterdottir, how shall we bring justice upon that ergi filth?” Sif asked as she poured more ale into her goblet. “What do you possess beyond the excellent vision you must gain from such freakishly large eyes? Can you fire a bow?”

“No.” she replied, slowly chasing the edges of the silver ring that now permanently gripped into her arm. The one _he_ had made. That had let her travel across the galaxy.

How could someone so smart be so stupid?

“But I'm good with technology.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I'd like to give you each a big hug for sticking with me.  
> I swear, if anyone realised how much love and attention I have put into this fictional universe, I would be studied.  
> If I don't manage to post soon, I hope all you guys get to see Avengers II (destroyer of fan-fiction canon)  
> Remember, support the source material!  
> x Pinch


	20. Ascent

### Chapter 54 – Ascent

#### Part 1 - Surrender

“Join you for dinner?” Caitlyn asked, exhaustion beginning to settle on her lids, her drying tears forming caked black streaks. “Isn't it a little early for that?”

Loki smiled, and kissed her lips. Softly, not to further smear the whore's red stain. Or that had been the intent, but on this occasion he found her so unusually soft and yielding...

_Surrender._

Nothing he could give her would be quite so sweet as this. Each kiss, his to steal in the night. He drank her tears, he gorged himself on her pain. “Say yes.” he laid her flat beneath him, and ran his hands into her tangled hair. He nipped at her lips, feeling her whine. 

She was weak still, and fragile. All her cuts fresh and open. A few might even scar.

_His_ cuts. _His_ scars. He climbed down, studying each one, tasting hot copper like some vile raven picking at carrion.

Her breath caught sharply as his teeth dragged against broken skin. “Yes.”

He smiled broadly, lapping at her wounds and allowing them to heal. After all, it would be a shame to mark her in such a brutal fashion. Better he carve his name with flourishing strokes. _Better she beg him for it, better he sink his teeth into her flesh and tear her apart..._

The horror of it curled slowly around him, settling deep into his darkening skin. It was only as a little of her blood caressed the base of his throat that revulsion awoke him. In a sickened panic he scrubbed at his lips, willing the monstrous shade to be gone before she...

But it made little impression upon her, exhausted as she was. She knew nothing of his transformation, or its undoing. She barely blinked as he lifted her into his arms. As she lay heavy and still. Breathing softly.

He had imagined her like this once before, in those early days, when lust had danced with him as hate. When he had pictured her as an unwilling concubine, painted and unveiled before him, and he had taken from her all that he was owed, in all the most brutal ways. As with these violent fantasies, he had ended her life by the end of their torrid coupling, often as he met his climax by his furious hand. He had believed that this image of her death would shake her from his mind. He had been mistaken.

Loki found he was often mistaken when it came to such things.

“Hmm?” she stirred as the door closed “What's happening?”

He slowly lowered her into the bath, paying little mind to the water seeping up his shirt sleeves. “I shall give you three guesses.” he teased.

“You said...dinner.” she sighed.

“I did. But first you must be presentable, no?” he smiled, pouring a little of the water over her lips, and brushing them gently with his thumb.

There was a flicker of movement in her lips: a soft kiss.

He was about to ask...if they could be happy; if she wanted to be...he ran through the many words he knew for it, and found none quite fitted. None other than _'mine'_. More than that, oh so much more than that, but nothing so crystalline in form. “I, eh...”

Silvertongue indeed.

“The collar...was it for me?” she asked, blinking those darkened lids.

“Yes.” Loki grinned. “Though I never expected you to wear it.”

Not without a great deal of indignation.

He resumed his task, deftly removing the black streaks from her cheeks. “You surprise me.” By now his shirt was soaked to the skin, with a mix of rapidly spreading water and the sweat of his earlier exertions. That was to say nothing for the state of his trousers. No amount of illusion would remove his discomfort, or the smell. He shed the waistcoat at least, and rolled his sleeves.

This interruption seemed to make her awaken a little more. Her eyes found focus. “Is there something wrong with me?” she asked.

“Of course not, pet.” he hushed her, stroking her hair. “Nothing at all.”

He feared the way she trembled.

Tears began to brim on her lids. “I thought...if I could save them, that it would stop. But it never stops. I try so hard, and it never stops.” a soft sob shook her and she curled her unsteady limbs around her.

He needed nothing more.

Water crashed to the floor around them as he held her close to his chest. His clothes grew heavy, his shoes filled with searing water, and he held her. “Hush. It's alright.” he whispered. “It's alright.”

“The nightmares get worse. I can feel it. I can feel their hands...” she gasped a breath and shook “...they reach up out of the sand...every time...it's always sand...”

He pressed her head to him, held her still.

“I thought it would get better...when I changed to Paediatrics...but the hands just got smaller.” She whimpered.

He tried to think of anything to say. “It's alright.” He tried desperately to imagine a way to fix this, but all he had were empty platitudes. “It's alright.” He twisted his body in the cramped, scalding confines, wanting more than anything to pull her into him, deep into his chest.

She stopped speaking now, reverting to short bursts of sobbing.

It made him sick. All he could do was to hold her close, to hope that was enough. “It's alright.”

The cries ceased, followed shortly by the tears, until she was very still.

He tilted her face towards his, searching it for some sign of the settling storm. Eventually the horror fled from her features, and she began to breathe.

“I'm sorry.” she muttered, trying to turn from him. It almost went without saying that he did not let her.

He laid a soft kiss upon her lips. “You carry more suffering than you deserve, Caitlyn. I am sorry to say that I have only added to that.” he caressed her cheek. “...If it were only a matter of my pride and your happiness, I would let him free. I swear to you, I would. But I cannot. I am sorry. Do not ask me for things I cannot give you, and I shall try to do the same.”

_We can be happy._

She blinked to clear the tears from her eyes. Her lips curved a little. “You're ruining your suit.” 

“Yes, well...” he smiled. “...no cut of mortal cloth can do me justice.” He was about to unbutton his shirt, when he found her hands were beginning that very task.

She leant into him, pushing the sopping shirt from his shoulders. “Did you...go anywhere nice today?”

“Hmm?” It took his mind a short while to focus on speech rather than the pert tits dancing ever closer to his lips. “Oh, yes. I met with Director Fury. He is keeping very well, given the circumstances. We had a pleasant discussion regarding the future of Russia and the furnishings of his private plane.” He watched as droplets beaded against her skin, dripping off of those little rose buds. “I stopped by the Winter Palace...” Like milk budding from her swollen breasts...he felt a sudden dryness in his throat “...rather lovely in the snow.”

It was an embarrassingly long time before he realised his hands were free.

“I never really pictured you as a tourist.” she smiled as she set to work on his belt.

“Yes, well...” more than once her hands brushed against his straining cock “...this world is not without its merits.”

_...and of course, there was the whore in St Petersburg whom he had paid to drip hot wax on his balls..._

Through a great deal of graceless scrambling, she removed one sodden shoe, then the other, his socks, finally reaching to unbutton his trousers. “I think you might have to stand up.”

“Hmm? Oh, yes.” he rose before her, feet threatening to slip as he stood in the tempestuous water. Should he acknowledge his growing erection? She was bound to have noticed. “I, eh...I don't believe you have ever undressed me before.”

“Really?” She tugged on the tightly clinging trousers and his manhood sprang free.

“I think I would recall.” he replied.

“Did you know I was going to like it?” she asked, wrestling the material down his legs until he was free “The...beating.” She looked up to him with wide eyes.

Loki grinned. “I suspected.”

Truth be told, his own desires may have weighed upon his judgement.

“Though, I think it was not _'the beating'_ as such.” he massaged his fingers into the back of her head, drawing her not-so-subtly towards his anatomy. “Rather...”

“...humiliation.” she closed her eyes softly, frowning. “You knew.”

He chuckled. “Caitlyn, if I had known it would have had such an effect upon you, I would have had you naked and chained at my feet from the moment we met. Do you really think I am a man of such patience?” the swollen head of his cock gleamed in emphasis of his...point.

“But surely you'd have to wait patiently, watching a hundred men fuck me?” she looked up through her dewy lashes, the curve of her lip making him strain. “Watching me drip with their come? From every swollen hole...”

He lost his grip upon her entirely. “You wanton little whore...” He little knew whether to fuck or strike her. “...if you...”

It took him a moment to register her smirk.

“You are a terrible liar, Loki.” She smiled as she sank back into the water.

He shook his head, and joined her, pressing against her form, letting the waves crash about them. “Don't tell anyone, darling. I have a reputation to uphold.” He kissed her, feeling her grin beneath his own. Their skin so close. He kissed her again, this time on the nose, and she giggled. He laughed. “No. You shall have to stop being adorable, or we will lie here until we freeze.” He wiped the last trace of black tears from the corner of her eye. “Wash your hair, and make yourself presentable. I will gather your things.”

Oh, the fun as her confusion broke. As joy and disbelief battled within her.

“...it is an awfully long journey, and we mustn't keep Victor waiting.”

 

#### Part 2 – Category Eight

Romanov landed the jet with ease, even in the climbing winds.

“That's a textbook landing, Romanov.” Fury spoke through the intercom, in half a mind to finish the vodka that Loki had left. It was damn expensive, and would probably just go to waste in the basement of some shield facility while they were checking for cells and fibres and goddamn _protein strands_.

_“Captain Rodgers won't like it.”_ her steely voice replied.

“I know.” he sighed, and rubbed his brow. “And you, Agent Romanov?”

_“I won't inform him if you want it kept classified, Sir.”_ she answered.

He sealed the vodka inside a secure specimen bag. “You know damn well that's not what I asked.” The specimen bag went into the combination case, and he'd never see the damn thing again. He turned the light off as he left, and met Romanov at the hatch.

She paused, her hand on the controls. “This is an eight, Nick. Guilt doesn't change that.” She didn't look troubled, she didn't even blink.

Fury envied her. He remembered a time, a long time ago, when he was her. Sharp, definite. But fighting gods wasn't a game for old men. “Captain Rodgers needs to know. Assemble the team; Rodgers, Hill and Barton. It doesn't go beyond the five of us.”

“What about Ward, Sir?” she asked, shouting over the pneumatics of the opening hatch, and the cry of the wind whipping past.

“Someone has to fly the damn thing.” he replied, surveying the sky. “Make sure she's secure.” A dark cloud peaked over the horizon, climbing closer by the minute. “There's a storm coming.”

 

#### Part 3 – Talking with Ghosts

Well, of all the oblivions Tony had thrown himself into, this one was the most depressing. He kept desperately glancing around the room, despite the fact he couldn't see a damn thing.

He had tried calling out, screaming, but it seemed he couldn't hear either. He'd lost all strength, all sensation. Apart from the fear.

Apart from the tingling as something small crept along his arm, slowly, towards his neck.

Apart from the shapes in the dark corners, the ones the hid at the edges of his vision. The ones that he had seen every night he had laid next to Pepper, desperately waiting for sleep.

There; he swore he could hear something breathing.

No, Tony, you're imagining things. You're letting him make you crazy. Don't give him that. Don't think about him. Don't think about what he might do to her.

_'I understand she is rather terrified of mutilation'_

No, no! Dammit Tony! Don't think about John Wayne Spacey, don't give him the satisfaction. Don't be afraid, don't be so damn afraid. You're Iron Man! You were Iron Man. Now you're...well, you're still alive. That's something.

“Oh, so you are Iron Man? Well, it _is_ a pleasure to meet you. I didn't think we'd have the opportunity.”

Okay, so he _was_ going mad. He was hallucinating some husky-voiced English chick. Well, he could have worse company in his head.

“I have heard _so_ much about you.”

Yeah, nice to meet you too, honey. How about we bust out of here and grab a cold one with Mickey Mouse and the Easter Bunny.

The voice laughed. “I think I would enjoy that. Though I am rather busy at the moment. Perhaps later?”

Why? Does crazy have somewhere else to be?

“I have a lot of preparations to make.” the voice replied “Ragnarök only comes once a lifetime. I would hate to disappoint.”

Oh, _Jesus_. Can't a guy just have a quiet breakdown without Asgard fucking with him?

Well, who the fuck are you, then? Gilda, Goddess of product placement? Or maybe Loki just putting on a stupid voice. A stupid, unnervingly sexual voice.

“Oh, you flatter me, Iron Man. Believe me, if I were to take you, you would not survive the experience.”

Oh, honey, if I were ten years younger, and you weren't an alien hallucination...

“You are a terrible flirt.” the voice giggled.

I try my best.

“I do rather like you.” the voice paused, taking a proverbial breath “Shall I give you a gift?”

Thor's magic hammer would be useful.

“Unfortunately he is using it at the moment.”

Well, maybe once he's done with saving everyone else?

“Perhaps. But what can I give to you now? I do so love the look on your little faces when I give you gifts. Would you have power? To slay your enemies, to avenge your friends and allies? Immortality? To live as we do, long and impervious to the weapons of your world? Or magic? To have the arcane at your command?”

Is this a three wishes-type-situation? Or pick two out of three? Can I wish for more wishes?

“If you would wish it, you will have all.”

Are you sure you and Loki aren't related?

“You do not believe I am capable?”

It's not that, it just the _careful-what-you-wish-for_ vibe that you're giving off. Kinda familiar. I mean, I'm all for taking candy from strangers, but normally they don't throw in the speedboat and the trip to Hawaii.

“Then ask something simple.”

Something simple? Really? Anything in the universe, just keep it simple? Boy, you're not gonna make this easy. Alright, I want...I want you to promise me that Pepper will be safe until I get back. Until I can get home, and protect her myself. I want your word.

There was a long silence, and Tony began to doubt he'd ever hear the voice again.

“Oh, you are a clever boy.”

 

#### Part 4 – Ascent

The five of them sat at the table. Well, four of them sat, and Hawkeye was sulking in the corner.

“Barton, I'm not going to tell you to sit down. You just stand there as long as you like.” Fury spoke to the man over his shoulder.

Captain Rodgers sat opposite him, with Romanov at his right. Hill was alone on the far side of the table.

So many empty seats.

“So, Director, how bad is it?” Rodgers asked, running his fingers over the scar on Romanov's hand.

Fury cleared his throat. “We haven't got much. I have to assume at least some of what 'Mary' told us was an attempt to impress...” he remembered his promise, and kept Romanov's words to himself “Apparently, a talent for manipulation runs in the family. Bordering on mind control.”

“Everyone's thinking it. I might as well say it;” Barton spoke from the shadows. “Loki can already control minds. First hand experience, right here.”

Hill shook her head. “Loki doesn't have the sceptre. Without it he's weaker. The control's easier to break; after a few days, it...fades.” She tensed her jaw and swallowed.

“Maria, I'm sorry, I wasn't...” Barton pulled up a chair. “All I meant was that...I mean why would that matter to him when he can already...”

“The effects are irreversible.” As soon as Fury spoke, even Barton fell silent. “Apparently.”

The whir of the turbines picked up a notch, jolting them upwards. They were probably around 20,000 feet and banking east. If they lost power, he'd have about a minute to get to the jet, assuming the rigging would hold it in place that long. The real danger would be the table sat in front of him. It would shatter, but worse it might trap him, make him lose time.

If they lost the steering, they'd have to climb higher to escape the tropical storm coming in from the South East. If the engines could take it. Then again, at 50,000 feet, their missile interception equipment wouldn't be functional. They could just get shot out of the sky with a few well-aimed rockets.

These were all things they could deal with.

“So what?” Rodgers spoke up. “I mean, so what if that's true? Just because you have a gun, doesn't mean you'll use it. She's a paediatrician, for Christ's sake! So she's good at manipulating people? So is Agent Romanov! I think Doctor Black is a darn sight less likely to try to enslave humanity.”

Romanov didn't flinch. For the second time in an hour, Fury was impressed with her self control.

“The _detainee_ ,” Fury didn't care much for the word. It felt oily on his tongue. “She told us that the ability only shows up in one person at a time, and it changes hands...” there was his headache again “...when they kill.”

“Kill?” Rodgers spluttered “Her? Wouldn't Shield have picked up something like that? Hell, wouldn't the hospital? Or the cops?”

Fury felt his head starting to split, and rubbed that spot beneath his patch. “We're looking into it.”

“You're looking into it?” Rodgers gave an exasperated laugh “We sent an innocent civilian into combat, delivered her right into Loki's arms, and _now_ you're looking into it?!”

Drilling, needling deeper. Ready to crack open his skull like a walnut.

“Enough!” Hill barked. “Your dissent, Captain Rodgers, is noted. But may I remind you that you are speaking with a superior officer, and we are discussing a weapon with mass destructive potential; currently _in Loki's arms_. Yes, we're all very sorry, but that doesn't change the facts. Now, if you'll let Director Fury finish, and we can get back to the debrief.”

Fury placed his hands on the desk, trying to suppress the throbbing in his eye socket. “Thank you, Agent Hill. Captain Rodgers, I agree, it's not clean, but until we can prove she's with us, we have to assume the worst. If we get any hard evidence, I will reconsider my position. Until then, the call is mine and I have made it. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Sir.” Rodgers nodded, digging his nails into his palm.

Rodgers remained silent throughout the rest of the meeting, then left without a second glance.

Romanov followed a few paces behind. If anyone could talk Rodgers down, it was her.

“You've read his file, Nick.” Maria muttered. “There's no way he'll pull the trigger. No matter what skeletons we find.”

She was right, of course. Even in the face of a direct order, even for the greater good, he wouldn't...

“Do you guys just forget we had an agency long before we thawed out the Captain? That hurts.” Barton stepped between them, and laid his screen on the table. “We might get our chance sooner than you thought. Message from one of our deep-cover operatives: there's a party in Latveria, and we've got an invite.”


End file.
